


Light of the Patronus

by em1985



Series: In absentia lucis, tenebrae vincunt [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Boy-Who-Lived Neville Longbottom, Bullying, Crushes, Denial of Feelings, Eating Disorders, Eventual Relationships, F/F, F/M, Gen, Harry Potter is Not the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Homophobia, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Language, Minor Canonical Character(s), Minor Character Death, Muggle Culture, Muggle Technology, Muggles, No Spoilers, Not Canon Compliant, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, One-Sided Attraction, POV Alternating, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Neville Longbottom, Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Recreational Drug Use, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Build, Suicidal Thoughts, Teen Angst, Underage Drinking, Unrequited Crush, innocent snogging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-01-15 05:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 88,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21248015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/em1985/pseuds/em1985
Summary: For twelve long years, the dead fortress of Azkaban held the infamous Peter Pettigrew, who was convicted of killing thirteen people with a single curse. He was said to be a long-time follower of the Dark Lord, Voldemort.When Azkaban guards reported that right before his escape he muttered, "He's at Hogwarts..." repeatedly in his sleep, it is suspected that Pettigrew is after Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter. Despite the fact that Neville and his Gran moved to 12 Grimmauld place, and the extra security placed at Hogwarts, danger loomed ominously over them and no one was safe anymore.((A note on the pairings. Just because it is there doesn't mean they get together. I mixed in crushes, both mutual and unrequited. Keep in mind they're only 13-14 years old. Parings may be added as the story develops.))





	1. Smells like Teen Angst.

**Author's Note:**

> I am starting to break away from canon a bit further here. There won't be a Time-Turner, there is an alternate story involving Peter Pettigrew, and other changes/additions to the story. 
> 
> Check the tags for possible triggers!
> 
> The entire book will alternate between the POV of Draco and Neville.
> 
> Text from the original books will be lifted when necessary. That being said; I do not own the characters or the series written by the talented J.K. Rowling.
> 
> It will start off as two chapters from Neville's POV and then two chapters from Draco's POV before returning to switching POV every other chapter.

They planned on moving to 12 Grimmauld place the day before his birthday. Gran was forced to leave most of her belongings behind. There simply was not enough room. He hadn’t realized how much they had until they started deciding what to take and what they had to leave behind.

He took care to send owls to his mates to inform them that he had to move and that he wasn’t allowed to leave for the remainder of the summer. He told them he will give them full details when he sees them and, in the meantime, read the Daily Prophet. 

He loathed being cooped up like he was a child who couldn’t care for himself. He could handle himself quite well. _How many times do I have to face Voldemort to prove it? _He had thought angrily. 

Almost immediately he received replies from them.

The first owl he received was from Hermione, along with a wrapped present, and a card.

_Dear Neville,_

_How perfectly awful that you are being rooted up like that. At least you have Harry, though, right? I read about Peter Pettigrew breaking out. How terrifying. They didn’t divulge much into the details, though. We should be careful what we say until we meet in person. _

_I do hope you’re alright! Happy early birthday! I don’t expect you can receive owls once you’re there, can you?_

_I am on holiday in France at the moment. I didn’t know how I was going to send this to you. Then Trevor showed up! I think he wanted to make sure my present got to you OK. I bought your present by owl-order; there was an advertisement in the Daily Prophet._

_France is lovely. It has such an interesting history of witchcraft. I’ve rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I’ve found out. I hope it’s not too long. It’s two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for. Write back if you can. Otherwise I will see you on the Hogwarts Express on September 1st!_

_Love from,_

_Hermione_

_P.S. Ron says Percy’s Head Boy. I’ll bet Percy is really pleased. He’s had such a rough time, he deserves it._

Neville bit his lip, the last bit made him feel a bit uncomfortable. The death of Penelope Clearwater seemed to weigh heavily in Percy. As unpleasant of a person he was; he didn’t deserve that. He idly wondered if Ginny had returned from the Mind Healers yet.

He put Hermione’s letter aside and pulled up the rather heavy present. He couldn’t imagine what it was. He ripped back the paper and saw a large book. He read the title as The _Rare and Unique Plants of Herbology and How to Tend Them. _

“Oh, wow Hermione!” He said out loud gleefully. 

He picked up Ron’s letter next.

_Dear Neville,_

_Happy early birthday, mate. Bad luck having to move. I read about Pettigrew, though. Nasty business, that. Must be bonkers for them to make you move. I would be upset too. Especially with Harry there. I know you get on most of the time but he is still a bit of a git, isn’t he? Speaking of gits; Seamus owled me an apology. He probably did to you as well. Don’t know why he bothered to help when he ditched us in the end. Guess he fancied that Dean and Liam’s activities lacked mortal peril. Here I thought it was part of our charm!_

_Percy got Head Boy and has become unbearable. I know things have been rough but I don’t see why the rest of us have to suffer through it. _

_Ginny is better. She’s not back from St. Mungo’s Mind Healer Ward yet but she should return before we head back on the Hogwarts Express._

_Maybe we can meet up to buy our schoolbooks, if you’re allowed out._

_Ron_

Neville turned to his present and unwrapped it. It looked like a miniature glass spinning top. There was another note from Ron beneath it.

_Neville— this is a Pocket Sneakoscope. If there’s someone untrustworthy around, it’s supposed to light up and spin. Bill says it’s rubbish sold for wizard tourists and isn’t reliable, because it kept lighting up at dinner last night but he didn’t realize Fred and George had put beetles in his soup._

_Bye—_

_Ron _

Neville had to laugh at that. Fred and George were brilliant pranksters. He had never met Bill but he reminded him of Percy. 

He frowned when he read about Ginny. It was sad that all of that happened to her during her first year at Hogwarts. He was relieved that she was going to be able to return for her second year.

The next letter was from Seamus. He frowned and opened it. He wasn’t sure he was ready to listen to him, let alone forgive him for ditching them.

_Neville,_

_Happy early birthday. I’m sorry I ditching you in the end. Me mam was on me after the article at Christmas but the death of Penelope Clearwater was the final strike for her. She said you hanging around a Slytherin was bad news and that I mustn’t involve myself in such things. It’s not that I believed her, mate. Obviously, all of it is rubbish. I just knew that with what was going on it was going to end up being another wild adventure that I feared me mam would get wind of. I’d end up getting home schooled or some shite like that. I can’t be stuck back here. Dean and Liam are grand. We should all hang around sometime. I read about that madman escaping Azkaban. Mam hit the roof at that. She thought you ought not return. Said you tend to put all the other students in danger. Not a bad idea of you stayed home until this mess is sorted. Not just for our sake but for your own. A You-Know-Who follower escaping Azkaban can’t be a good sign. What if he comes after you? Can’t find you at Hogwarts if you aren’t there, though. Be careful, mate. _

_Cheers!_

_Seamus_

Neville let out an angry growl as he tore up Seamus’ letter and threw it into the fireplace.

_What a prat! Doesn’t want me there, does he? Find me a danger, does he? Well if it weren’t for me Voldemort would have become fully alive and Ginny would have died. Who knows what would have happened after that? Me and my lot are making it safer for all of them!_

He frowned as he slumped back into a chair. _But Dobby tried to stop me from returning to Hogwarts last year for the same reason. Maybe I am the cause of it all, even if I do solve it in the end. Yet Penelope died because I hadn’t solved it fast enough. _He sighed. _Maybe it would be better without me there._

Neville picked up the last parcel. The untidy scrawl was from one other than Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper. He tore off the top layer of paper and caught a glimpse of something green and leathery. Before he could properly unwrap it, the parcel gave a strange quiver, and whatever was inside it snapped loudly—as though it had jaws.

He froze. He knew Hagrid would never send him anything dangerous on purpose, but then Hagrid didn’t have a normal person’s view of what was dangerous. Hagrid had been known to buy vicious three-headed dogs from men in pubs, and sneak illegal dragon eggs into his cabin.

Neville poked the parcel nervously, unsure he wanted to further mess with it. It snapped loudly back at him. He picked up his new, heavy Herbology book, ready to strike. Then he seized the rest of the wrapping paper in his other hand and pulled.

A book fell out. Neville only just registered its handsome green cover, emblazoned with the golden title _The Monster book of monsters, _before it flipped onto its edge and scuttled sideways along the table like some sort of crab.

“Uhhrm.” Neville muttered.

The book toppled on the floor with a loud clunk and shuffled rapidly to the other room. It slid under the couch as Neville followed stealthily behind it. He was glad Gran was out doing errands. He got down on his hands and knees and reached for it.

“Ouch!” 

The book snapped shut on his hand and then flapped past him, still scuttling on its covers. Neville scrambled around and finally threw himself forward onto it. He managed to flatten it. 

Neville scrambled to one of the drawers as he clamped the struggling book close to his chest. He found a roll of Spellotape and wrapped it around it repeatedly until it was well contained. The _Monster Book _shuddered angrily but it could no longer flap and snap so he slammed it back onto the table and reached for Hagrid’s card.

_Dear Neville, _

_Happy birthday!_

_Think you might find this useful for next year. Won’t say no more here. Tell you when I see you._

_All the best,_

_Hagrid_

It struck him as ominous that Hagrid thought a biting book would be useful. He put it out of his mind, determined to enjoy his early birthday gifts. He put Hagrid’s card with Ron & Hermione’s with a bit of a smile. There was only one letter from Hogwarts left.

He noticed it was a bit thicker than usual. Neville slit open the envelope and pulled out the first page of parchment within, and read:

_Dear Mr. Longbottom,_

_Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King’s Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o’clock. _

_Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign._

_A list of books for your next year is enclosed._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Professor McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Neville pulled out the Hogsmeade permission first and glanced at it, no longer grinning. He would have loved to visit Hogsmeade but he doubted he’d be allowed to, given the current circumstances.

He frowned at it a while longer and then put it with the rest of his things. He still had packing to do.

Moving day came too quickly. It was rather depressing because he had to leave the place, he grew up in. It was all because of a Voldemort fanatic breaking out of a prison that they had declared unbreakable. Then again, everyone had believed that no one could break into Gringotts and yet Quirrell had managed to do that during Neville’s first year. He was starting to believe that grownups only pretended to know things.

Various witches and wizards, he assumed were members of the Order of the Phoenix, helped them move their things. Some of them he knew and others he did not. None of it mattered to him.

When it was time for them to go; he Side-Along apparated with Gran. 12 Grimmauld Place seemed different this time. _This is going to be my home now._ He thought sadly to himself.

A door opened from upstairs and a horrific sound escaped from inside the room. He covered his ears; was more nauseated than when he felt the aftereffects of the Side-Along apparation._ Merlin’s beard, what is that noise?_

“Are you seriously covering your ears right now?” A voice he recognized as Harry’s spoke over the noise.

“Yes! What is that? Make it stop!” He exclaimed loud enough that his own voice seemed to irritate his ears.

“You’re like one of those old Muggle blokes that tell kids to get off their lawn.” 

Neville hadn’t realized he shut his eyes until the sound ceased and he was freed. He opened them, his eyes widening immediately at the sight of Harry. He had grown several inches taller and almost too thin for his stature. His jet-black hair was shoulder-length and as unruly as ever. He was wearing an opened checkered black and red shirt with buttons. Underneath was a simple white t-shirt. He had on light coloured Muggle jeans that almost bore as many holes as there was fabric. Everything appeared several sizes too large for Harry.

“Stop gaping at me like an idiot.” Harry scolded with a smirk.

Neville flushed red at the remark. “You just look...so different.” He couldn’t help but point out.

“Yes, well you are quite lame in your khaki trousers and button up shirt. Honestly, Neville. It’s like you sell Muggle Bibles!” 

“What?” Neville gaped at him, unable to fully comprehend his Muggle references. _Since when was he an expert?_

“Ah yes, but a bit small isn’t it? How is it that you barely get any taller yet you seem to be getting wider?” Harry pointed out.

Neville twitched, wrapping his arms around his waist protectively. He supposed he had gained some weight over the summer but it wasn’t something that he had taken much notice of until now.

“Oh, settle down, Neville. You look fine. It’s not like you’re Crabbe or Goyle sized. Wouldn’t care if you were as you aren’t a greedy git.” 

“Errr-” Neville managed to get out.

“Moving here, huh?” Harry interrupted cheerfully.

Neville continued to stare dumbly at him. He smelled sort of strange. It was sweet yet smoky, like scented burnt leaves. He squinted slightly. He could have sworn Harry’s eyes were a bit red-rimmed behind his black-wire glasses.

“Harry...what is wrong with you?”

Harry started cracking up. “I’m totally stoned. Shh. C’mere.” He pulled on Neville’s arm before he could begin to register what that meant.

Harry dragged him into his room and shut the door. Harry’s room was a myriad of clothes, wizard books and other odds and ends and strange Muggle contraptions he was not familiar with.

Harry picked up a strange, colourful pipe that was packed with some sort of plant. Harry placed the tip to his lips and used a Muggle fire starter to light it up. Neville’s eyes widened as he watched him pause before a burst of smoke exited his lips in what looked like bursts of clouds. 

“Wha--why? Can we?” Neville sputtered out.

“Shut up and put it to your lips and inhale swiftly as I light it. Then hold the smoke and exhale it slowly out of your lips. It makes you feel good--giddy--relaxed. You are quite in need of chilling out.”

Neville did as he was told, except he had started to choke and cough as soon as he had inhaled it. 

Harry chuckled and patted his back. “Don’t inhale so deep to start. You took in too much smoke at once.”

Neville, whose face had turned a light shade of green, nodded slightly. This time he took in the smoke slower and just as Harry said, it was easier to inhale. He held onto it a moment and then watched the smoke escape his lips in awe. He went again and then offered it back to Harry.

“That’s the ticket. Puff, puff, pass, as the Muggles say.” Harry praised him, causing Neville to blush lightly.

Harry inhaled the smoke deeply, held it and allowed it to escape his nostrils in a way that reminded him of a dragon. After Harry’s second puff in. Neville started to laugh.

“Dragon...nostrils.” He let out.

“Wha?” Harry replied in a way that reminded Neville of Goyle.

That made him laugh harder.

“You’re stoned.” Harry accused him.

“I’m what?” Neville wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that._ Is someone going to throw rocks at me_? _Is Harry going to?_ His eyes widened into saucers.

“No, dumbass. It means you are on drugs. The kind that make you feel good and high. Like a potion that makes you feel loopy.” Harry explained between laughs. 

“Stop laughing at me! You’re the one...what is with the Muggle...thingies?”

Harry frowned at him. “So many Slytherins are so obsessed with looking down on Muggles that those who don’t are afraid to voice it. Afraid to show knowledge of em. Well shit is changing, mate!”

“That’s a lot of words.” Neville said after a few moments and then broke into a strange fit of laughter.

Harry shook his head at him, smirking. “Whatever, stoner.” He snickered.

“OK so then what is this?” He pointed at something rectangular with a variety of buttons. 

There was a sort of metal pocket up front and then on top there was a big metal saucer pocket. It was see-through so one could see the round, shiny metal thing placed into it. The sides of the rectangular object had a sort of soft-looking fabric on it. 

“That’s a Cassette/CD player. They are what Muggles put music in so that you listen to it. You press this button here and it opens like a drawer. You put in a cassette in it and close it. Then press the button says play. There are arrows that go left which means that means you rewind it and listen again. Then the arrows that point right allow you to go forward.”

Neville stared at it in awe. “They press it with their fingers?” He asked incredulously.

“Yup! Madness, isn’t it? I love it. Muggles are surprisingly creative in replacing magic to do things. They come up with what they call “technology” to make things easier.”

Neville was still staring blankly at the contraption. He pressed the “play” button and covered his ears. 

“Something’s wrong with it!” He yelled over it.

Harry had bowled over laughing. “Merlin...oh Merlin help me.” He exclaimed. “The one with the uh red square is stop.” 

Neville scowled at him and turned it off. “What the—”

“They call it grunge music and that was the band, Nirvana.” Harry informed him. “But let’s sneak to the CD shop and we can buy you something lame like Neil Diamond or some rubbish like that.”

“It has to be better than that.” Neville murmured to himself as he pressed a button that opened the top part. “What’s this?” He stared at it with furrowed brows.

“Oh, that’s a CD! It’s a newer type thing. You can skip whole songs. You don’t rewind so much as you just click the forward button and it goes to the next song. Careful. You will probably hate it just as much.” He snickered.

“You’re an asshole.” Neville smirked.

“Mm well this asshole is taking you out of this prison to a real Muggle CD shop!”

Neville’s eyes widened. “We can’t! We can’t leave—I mean that Pettigrew person is after us!” He exclaimed, his eyes darting about as though he was afraid, he’d dart out at any time.

“I doubt he’ll check the Muggle shops, mate. Besides, us not being allowed is why we are sneaking out.”

Neville watched him put out the ‘Pipe’ and then grab his cloak, his jaw dropping.

“Oh, come off it. We won’t get caught.” He drawled the cloak over the two of them.

They sneaked their way through the house to the front door. Luckily, everyone was too busy bustling about with the moving to have noticed anything even if they didn’t have the invisibility cloak.

They walked slowly once they were outside of the house. Neville was glancing about a bit frantically. He was sure something was after them. Harry insisted that it was just the weed affecting him. 

“I don’t think I like this.” Neville complained.

“Shut up. You will if you stop wringing your hands over it.”

Neville grunted but remained quiet the rest of the way.

Harry and Neville finally stopped in front of a dinky little shop with lettering across it spelling out, “One Stop Record Shop”. 

“What’s a record? Thought we were coming for...CD’s?” He wasn’t sure if he got the name right or not.

“Yes, well records are still about. They’re old ways of listening to music. Some Muggles go crazy over it and say that Vinyl is better than anything. To me it just has rubbish in the background. It’s barbaric even by some Muggles standards.” Harry explained.

Neville, wide-eyed, nodded his head slightly. 

“Come _on.” _

He pulled the cloak off and shoved into the backpack Neville hadn’t realized he was carrying. _Clever._ He thought to himself.

Harry grabbed his hand and pulled him in, sparks jolting between them. He twitched slightly. Neville glanced at Harry whose brows had shot up but he hadn’t spared a glance Neville’s way. He wondered what he was thinking about.

As they entered Neville heard a ding noise that caused him to jump in surprise.

“What is that?” Neville whispered harshly; his hand squeezed Harry’s tighter.

Before he could answer he heard a distinctly female voice giggling. He turned to her, eyes widening.

“Hello Harry. Who's your—“” Her wide caramel eyes moved to their hands. “Oh, I didn’t know you were a pouf!” She pouted.

Neville ripped his hand away quickly. “We are _not _together!” His eyes were still darting about, searching the shadows for enemies.

Harry looked stung by his gesture momentarily and then grinned again.

“Uh—What he said—but don’t mind him.” He moved closer to the desk where the purple-haired, pale girl sat. She had holes in her face and her lips were black like they were rotting. “First time stoned.” Harry had said.

“Shhhh they’ll know!” Neville insisted.

She started giggling all over again. “What’s your name?” She asked with a bemused expression. 

“I’m uh—uh” He tried to think of a cover name and failed.

“This is Neville. Neville this is Janis.” Harry said.

“My parents named me after the singer.” She explained, wrinkling her nose. 

“He won’t understand. He doesn’t even like Nirvana.” Harry sent her a pointed look that Neville did not like and her eyes widened. “Besides, she was brilliant!”

“You didn’t have to listen to her stuff constantly as a kid.” She paused, “What do you mean he doesn’t like Nirvana?”

“Shut up. You look like an owl.” Neville grumbled.

They both laughed at him.

There was a variety of sales and dust lining the dinky little shop. He tried to ignore Harry talking up the Muggle shop girl when the ding went off again. He turned, alarmed, as though someone was surely after them. _We’ve been found! _He thought, starting to reach for his wand, even if they weren’t supposed to use magic outside of Hogwarts. _Surely if we are in danger we are excused!_

He relaxed when he realized it was three teenage lads, not their guardians or Peter Pettigrew coming to kill them.

“Oi! Who let the poufs in!” The largest lad said with a cruel smile. He was larger than Crabbe and Goyle, had blond hair, slightly pink skin, and watery blue eyes. He was holding a poking stick of some kind for reasons Neville couldn’t fathom.

The other two laughed. To the large lad’s left was a scrawny, sickly looking pale skin, dark hair and dull grey eyes. To his right stood a bloke with shaggy blond-hair, dirt brown eyes, and was built like a stocky Quidditch player. Both of them looked equally as mean.

The leader glanced to Harry and narrowed his eyes. “Thought I told you not to come here.” 

Harry simply smirked. “And I thought I told you to stop eating. Your five juggling chins is distracting.” He said coolly.

Neville started to back up slowly, unsure of himself and most likely still stoned. Of course, he tripped over a trolley of Muggle CDs and fell on the floor with a loud thump. 

The three lads turned to him and started to laugh hysterically. Neville could feel his cheeks heat up as he stood to his feet, hands curled into fists at his sides. 

“Oi, Harry is that pillock your boyfriend?” The blond leader called out.

“Shut it, Dudley. Or should I say, Diddims? I heard your mother call you that. Poor Dudley Diddims is too dim to make good marks in school!” Harry retorted. 

Dudley’s face turned beet red. “What? How? Why you little shit!” 

He reached out to grab for him but Harry was quicker. 

“Get him, Piers!” Dudley barked.

“That’s quite enough!” Janis cut through as she came out from behind the counter. She was wearing a similar get up as Harry.

“Oh shut, you Chaz!” Dudley continued.

“The word you’re looking for is chav. If you’re going to have a go at someone at least do it right, you bloody tosser!” She called out. 

Dudley looked like he was about to burst into flames, not that Neville would have minded at this point. 

“Ignore her! We are here for the losers who came in on our turf. Can’t follow directions, can you? Bet you’re a chav too. Does your dad even work, Harry? Is that why you’re a big poofter? Your mum raise you as a girl, did she?”

Neville could feel the radiation of energy coming off Harry in strong waves. Neville started to move in closer but strong hands gripped hold of him.

“Look who I found coming to his boyfriend's aid.” The one with shaggy blond hair said as he held him close to him. 

“Let me go.” Neville growled. All traces of being stoned had left his system.

“Nah. Think you’re going to learn a lesson just now.”

The rat-faced boy grabbed hold of Harry and held tightly onto him. Dudley stood in front of him, jeering at him maliciously. He curled his hand into a fist and punched Harry into the stomach.

Neville could feel powerful fury growing inside of him as he tried to jerk away. If the Muggle could feel it, he didn't show it.

“Yah. That’s right. And you’re next.” He jeered in Neville’s ear as he held him. 

He wished he could grab his wand and show them what they’d learned in the two years of being at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

It became tempted to try when Dudley smashed Harry in the nose, his glasses making a cracking noise as they laid crookedly on his face.

Harry smirked at him. “That all you got, Diddims? Watch out you might catch the pouf if you touch me too much!” He taunted him.

Dudley scowled as Piers’ eyes widened.

“I think we'd caught it by now!” Dudley said despite looking rather confused. 

“I’d rather be seen as a poofter than be a bully with only your two lackeys backing you up! Muggle or wizard; people who put down others for no good reason are bloody pathetic!” Neville’s voice rang out into the shop.

“What did you call me?” Dudley boomed, as baffled as he was angry. “Why you little bastard!”

Neville fought harder to squirm out of the grip of the boy holding onto him.

Dudley grinned maliciously, waddling over to him, leaving Harry to aggressively try to escape Pier’s arms behind him.

His cruel gaze fixated on Neville as he walked up close to him. “Bet this one was raised by his mum too. Dressed by her too by the looks of it. Probably a minger slag too. Can’t be attractive if she’s popped someone as ugly as you—” Dudley cut off suddenly. 

The three of them suddenly moved away from both Harry and Neville. Janis, who had moved behind the counter and was speaking into some sort of Muggle device he didn’t recognize, was gaping in horror.

Dudley appeared to be swelling. At first Neville thought it was the last remnants of the drugs in his system causing him to see things. One look at Janis and he knew he wasn’t imagining it. Dudley’s great, round face started to expand, his watery blue eyes bulged, and his mouth stretched too tightly for speech. 

Harry moved over to Neville and clasped his hand. The other two immediately started swelling too. 

The next second the bottoms of their trousers bounce off and pinged off the walls. Their shirts stretched to maximum capacity, bulging bellies breaking free. Each of their fingers blew up like salamis as their whole bodies began to rise up into the air in the tiny space.

Neville, Harry, and Janis watched with wide eyes as the three bullies, who were vast like buoy with piggy eyes drifted to the ceiling, their feet sticking out weirdly as they continued floating about.

“Help!! Help!!” They squealed as their tiny arms flailed aimlessly.

Harry pulled on Neville’s hand, is pulling him out of his trance-like state. 

“Time to go!” He called out. “Call uh your police!” He added to Janis, who was still gaping at the bullies in horror as they hovered on the ceiling helplessly.

Neville didn’t answer as Harry dragged him toward the exit of the shop. 

He stopped only momentarily to shout, “Ask your mum how she’s related to Harry Potter!”

Harry stared to laugh as they headed out toward the streets. Neville couldn’t help but join him even though he had no idea what he was on about. 

“Take that you gits! You deserved it! You deserve what you got!” Neville shouted.

They kept running toward the dark, quiet streets, leaving the approaching sirens behind them.


	2. Escape into the Knight.

It felt like they had been running forever by the time they finally stopped. Neville slumped over, grabbing for his knees, his heart thumping, as he rasped for air. He was spent. He glanced over at Harry; taking note of the way he plopped down on the sidewalk.

“Now...what?” Neville panted out.

“Well...we are definitely...expelled.” Harry rasped out.

Neville’s heart sank. _Oh, yeah. We blatantly did magic in front of a Muggle. We broke the Restriction of Underage Wizardly so badly I’m surprised they haven’t already swooped down on us._

“We can’t just stay here on the sidewalk.” Neville reasoned as he plopped down beside Harry.

“I know. But...can we go home? They’re probably all looking for us.” Harry said.

“Well, it’s not like we can go back to Hogwarts. We have to own up to it sometime.” 

Neville shivered as he glanced up and down the street. _Will they arrest us? Do they send wizards to Azkaban for breaking the Restriction of Underage Wizardry? No, no. We’re still just kids._

“How much Muggle money do you have on you?” Neville asked.

Harry let out a derisive snort, “None. I never had any intention of actually paying for anything.”

Neville glared at him. “So, you were going to steal from those Muggles? From that nice shop girl? What is wrong with you, Harry?” 

_He’s scaring me. He’s not acting himself._

“Oh, settle down. She does it too. Not everyone is as angelic as you are, Neville.” He rolled his eyes at him.

“You’re a bloody pillock.” Neville glowered in front of him. _I guess I’m alone in figuring things out, here._

Neville pulled out his wand and held it in front of him. “_Lumos_” He murmured.

He held it high over his head, trying to figure out where they were. He didn’t know this area but surely Harry did, right? He glanced his way but Harry was staring at something else.

Neville lowered his wand slightly as he spotted something big, with wide gleaming eyes. He and Harry scrambled to their feet, backing away slowly toward the street. Neville tripped over the sidewalk and pummeled toward the ground, his wand flying out of his hand as he flung his arm out to break his fall, and he landed, hard, in the gutter.

“Neville!” Harry called out as he rushed for him. “Are you alrigh--” 

A deafening BANG drowned out the rest of Harry’s words. Neville threw his hands up to shield his eyes against the sudden blinding light.

With a yell, he rolled back onto the pavement, just in time. A second later, a gigantic pair of wheels and headlights screeched to a halt exactly where Neville had just been lying. They belonged to a triple-decker, violently purple bus, which had appeared out of thin air. Gold lettering over the windshield spelled out, _The Knight Bus_. 

Neville glanced at Harry who was lying next to him. He must have dodged the bus at the same time as him. 

“Alright, Harry?” Neville asked.

“Yeah. Fine. You?” Harry said a bit tersely.

Before Neville could answer a conductor in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began to speak loudly into the night.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step up on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this ev--”

The conductor stopped abruptly. He had just caught sight of Harry and Neville, who were still on the ground.

“What’re you lot doin’ down there?” said stan, dropping his professional manner.

“Fell over.” Harry said to him.

“Both of you? What choo fall over for?” He eyed the both of them with a snigger.

“Not on purpose!” Neville cut in, indignantly. 

He glanced down at his ripped trousers and the hand he had thrown out to break his fall was bleeding. He looked at Harry with a frightened glance, remembering why he had fallen over in the first place. He took a gander around them but the headlamps of the Knight Bus revealed that it was empty. He turned back to Harry, who, by the look on his face, had caught on and glanced around himself. Neville and Harry exchanged frightened glances.

“Whatchu lookin’ at?” asked Stan with a perked brow.

“There was a big black thing.” Neville said in a shaky tone, pointing uncertainty into the gap. “Like a dog...but massive…”

He stared at Stan, whose mouth was gaping. With a feeling of unease, Neville felt Stan’s gaze move to the scar on his forehead and then his face.

“Why your--”

“Shut it! Nobody needs to know who either of us are. I’m Seamus Finnigan and this is Dean Thomas, got it?” Harry pulled out coins that Neville couldn’t properly see in the darkness and handed it to Stan.

“Thought you haven't any money, _Dean._” Neville hissed at him, though he was thankful for his intervention.

“I said I haven't’ any Muggle money.” He smirked.

“Well get on, then. Where are you headed?” Stan gestured toward the bus. 

Neville and Harry glanced at each other with uncertainty.

“Leaky Cauldron.” Harry said finally. He ignored Neville’s questioning look.

Apparently, he had given Stan enough to take them both to the Leaky Cauldron and keep his mouth shut about it.

Harry stepped onto the bus without hesitation with Neville following behind him.

There were no seats; instead, half a dozen brass bedsteads stood beside the curtained windows. Candles were burning in brackets beside each bed, illuminating the wood-paneled walls. A tiny wizard in a nightcap at the rear of the bus muttered, “Not now, thanks. I’m pickling some slugs” and rolled over in his sleep.

“You two ‘ave these two ones.” Stan whispered. He gestured toward the steering wheel “This is our driver, Ernie Prang. This is uh--Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan.” He said.

Ernie Prang was an elderly wizard wearing thick glasses. He nodded to them silently in greeting.

“Take ‘er away, Ern,” said Stan, sitting down in an armchair next to Ernie’s.

There was another tremendous bang and the next moment Neville found him flat on his bed, thrown backward by the speed of the Knight Bus. Pulling himself up, he glanced at Harry who was smirking as he too sat up on his bed.

“Hey, what did you mean back there to Dudley? For him to ask his mum about you?” Neville asked curiously. 

Harry let out a laugh, “Of all our problems, that is what you are focused on?” He shook his head. “Dudley is my cousin.” He said after a moment. “His mum is my mum’s sister. See, my mum is a Muggle-born. I had found something about her in storage and I had to find out who she was. I mostly just watched them under my invisibility cloak. It’s a good thing, too. From what I saw they’re nasty pieces of work. I don’t know what I’d have done if I had to stay with them….” He trailed off, his gaze averting downward. He rarely spoke of his parents or the fact that they were permanent residents in the Janus Thickey Ward at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

“Harry...I had no idea you had other relatives…” Neville went to sit next to Harry on his bed.

“Yeah, well, they’re assholes so it wasn’t much of a find.” He murmured.

“Are you alright? You’ve been acting a bit mental, even for you.” Neville pressed quietly.

“I’m fine, Neville. Quit worrying so much.” He paused, “Do you think that big black thing was really a dog?” 

Neville’s brows shot up and then he let out a sigh. _He was quick to change the topic_.

“That’s what it looked like, didn’t it? Just bigger than any dog I’ve ever seen.” Neville remarked.

“Yeah.” Harry agreed.

Silence lulled between them as the Knight Bus kept mounting the pavement but didn’t hit anything. Lines of lampposts, mailboxes, and trash cans jumped out of its way as it approached and then back into position once it passed.

Stan came back downstairs, followed by a faintly green witch wrapped in a traveling cloak.

“‘ere you go, Madam Marsh,” said Stan happily as Ern stamped on the break and the beds slid a foot or so toward the front of the bus. 

Madam Marsh clamped a handkerchief to her mouth and tottered down the steps. Stan threw her bag out after her and rammed the doors shut; there was another loud bang, and they were thundering down a narrow country lane, trees leaping out of the way. Neville wouldn’t have been able to sleep even if he had been traveling on a bus that didn’t keep making loud bang noises and constantly jerking like mad.

_What’s going to happen to us now? _Neville couldn’t help but silently wonder. He knew they couldn’t just stay on the run from everyone. They had to go home eventually. Maybe he’d be able to convince Harry to send an owl to their guardians once they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.

“Can I see?” Harry was saying once Neville zoned back in.

Harry was taking a newspaper from Stan and started to read it. Neville scooted in closer so that he could read it over his shoulder.

**PETTIGREW STILL AT LARGE**

_Peter Pettigrew, the criminal who mysteriously escaped Azkaban Prison, remains at large, Ministry of Magic confirmed today._

_“We are doing all we can to recapture Pettigrew.” said Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning. “We beg the Wizarding community not to approach him but call authorities if spotted.”_

_Fudge, who was previously criticized for the escape, has additionally being ostracized by the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis._

_“Well, really, I had to, don’t you know,” said an irritable Fudge. “Pettigrew is mad. He’s a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister’s assurance that he will not breathe a word of Pettigrew’s true identity to anyone. Let’s face it, who would believe him if he did?”_

_While Muggles have been told that Pettigrew is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of another massacre._

Neville glanced up and exchanged nervous glances with Harry. Stan was eyeing them closely.

“Not a good idea for you two to be out and about in the middle of the night. Pettigrew woz a big supporter of You-Know-‘Oo, after all.”

“You mean Voldemort?” Harry brashly replied without thinking. 

Even Stan’s pimples went white; Ern jerked the steering wheel so hard that a whole farmhouse had to jump aside to avoid the bus.

“You outta your tree?” yelped Stan. “‘Choo say ‘is name for?”

“Forgot.” Murmured Harry.

Neville rolled his eyes at him. “So, Pettigrew is a big You-Know-Who supporter?”

Stan was still eyeing Harry with trepidation as he spoke. “Yeah, that’s right. Very close to You-Know-Oo, they say. Anyway, when little Neville Longbottom got the better of You-Know-‘Oo all the supporters were tracked down, wasn’t they Ern? Most of ‘em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-‘Oo fine and they came quiet. But not Pettigrew. I ‘eard ‘e’d be second-in-command once You-Know-‘Oo ‘ad taken over.

“Anyway, they cornered Pettigrew in the middle is a street full of Muggles an’ Pettigrew took out ‘is wand and ‘e blasted ‘alf the street apart, and a dozen Muggles got it jus for bein’ in the way. You know what he done then?” Stan continued in a dramatic whisper.

“What?” Neville and Harry asked together. No one had ever told them anything about Pettigrew.

“_Laughed,_” Said Stan. “Jus’ stood there an’ laughed. An’ when reinforcements got there, ‘e went wiv ‘em as quiet as anything, still laughing ‘is ‘ead off. Cos ‘e’s mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?”

“If he weren’t when he went to Azkaban, he will be now,” Said Ern in his slow voice. “I’d blow myself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind you...after what he did.”

“They ‘ad a job coverin’ it all up, didn’t they Ern?” Stan said. “‘Ole street blown up an’ all them Muggles dead. What was it they said ‘ad ‘appened, Ern?”

“Gas explosion.” Grunted Ernie.

“An’ now ‘e’s out,” Said Stan, examining the newspaper picture of Pettigrew’s gaunt face again. “Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, ‘as there, Ern? Beats me ‘ow ‘e did it. frightenin’, eh? Mind, I don’t fancy ‘is chances against them Azkaban guards, eh, Ern?

Ernie suddenly shivered.

“Talk about summat else, Stan. Them Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles.”

Stan reluctantly put the paper away. Neville and Harry exchanged silent, terrified glances. Neville couldn’t help but wonder once again what would happen to them. _Will we be thrown in Azkaban? We’d be killed in moments with all of those Voldemort followers in there. _He shuddered at the thought.

The Knight Bus rolled through the darkness, scattering bushes and wastebaskets, telephone booths and trees while Neville laid on his bed, restless and miserable. Neville must have somehow managed to dozed because the next time he opened his eyes Harry was shaking him.

“Wake up!” He exclaimed irritably.

He blinked several times at him. “Harry, you look awful.” He groggily replied.

“Shut up.” He retorted as he let go of him and walked away.

Neville got up, yawning as he followed Harry off the bus.

“Thanks!” He called out to Stan.

Stan had already gotten back on the bus and in the next moment there was a loud bang and it was gone again.

“_There _you boys are.” said a voice.

As Neville turned around, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He paused anxious as to know who the owner of the hand was. He glanced up, eyes widening when he realized it was Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself.

“Well. I’m glad the Knight Bus picked you two lads up.” He said curtly.

He could feel Fudge tighten his grip on Neville’s shoulder. He hadn’t realized it before but his other hand rested tersely on Harry’s shoulder. They were being quickly steered into the Leaky Cauldron.

A stooping figure bearing a lantern appeared through the door behind the bar.

“This is Tom. He is the landlord here.” Cornelius said stiffly.

Tom sent a toothless grin, “You've found him, Minister! Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?”

“Nice to meet you.” Neville said quietly. 

Fudge still had his hands on him and Harry.

“Perhaps a pot of tea.” Fudge said finally. “And a _private parlor_, please Tom.

Fudge marched both of them along the narrow passage after Tom’s lantern, and then into a small parlor. Tom clicked his fingers and a fire burst into life in the grate, and he bowed himself out of the room.

“Sit down.” He indicated two chairs by the fire.

Neville sat down with a feeling of foreboding. He and Harry exchanged fearful glances. Fudge took off his pinstriped cloak and tossed it aside, then hitched up the trousers of his bottle-green suit and sat opposite of them.

“I am Cornelius Fudge. The Minister of Magic.”

They already knew this, of course. _Who didn’t know who he was?_

Tom the innkeeper reappeared, wearing an apron over his night-shirt and bearing a tray of tea and crumpets. He placed the tray on the table between them and left the parlor, closing the door behind him.

“Well. You two had us all in a right flap. Running from the Muggle shop like that. I started to think that—but you’re safe and that’s all that matters.”

Fudge buttered himself a crumpet and then pushed the plate toward Neville and Harry.

“Eat. You both look positively peaked.” He insisted. “You will be pleased to hear that we dealt with unfortunate blowing up of the three Muggle lads.” He paused, “One of which is your cousin Dudley, am I right, Harry?”

Harry, who was quite pale, nodded slightly.

Fudge eyed him curiously. “Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department were dispatched to the scene. The lads have been punctured and their memories as well as the witnesses have been modified. They will have no recollection of the incident of all. So, there’s that. No harm.”

Fudge eyes them over the rim of his teacup, rather like an old uncle surveying his favorite nephews. Neville couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He opened his mouth to speak, couldn’t think of anything to say, and closed it again.

“Does uh—Sirius and his Gran know?” Harry spoke up finally.

“Ah, yes yes. You two sneaked out, did ya?” He shook his head as though they were two naughty rascals.

“Are they...coming?” Neville managed to squeak out.

“Oh, yes. I wanted to speak to you both first…”

“To punish us?” Neville asked with a sinking sensation.

Fudge blinked.

“Punish you?”

“We broke the law! The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry!”

“Oh. We’re not going to punish you for a little thing like that!” Cried Fudge, waving his crumpet impatiently. “It was an accident! We don’t send people to Azkaban for blowing up a few Muggle bullies!”

But this didn’t tally at all with what happened last year. They had almost gotten a warning and it appeared in the paper. He didn’t reckon that went over well with the Ministry.

Unless Neville’s eyes were deceiving him, Fudge appeared a bit uncomfortable.

“Circumstances change. We have to consider...in the present climate…” He cleared his throat. “Surely you don’t wish to be punished?”

Neville shook his head a bit vigorously. He and Harry exchanged conspiratorial looks.

“Well then, what’s all the fuss about?” laughed Fudge. “Now, have a crumpet while I contact your guardians.” He waved a dismissive hand at them and strode out of the room.

Neville gulped. Gran had to be furious with him. Sirius and Lupin as well. He sighed and stared at his lap sullenly.

“Something isn’t right. Why was Fudge waiting for us? How did he know we’d end up here?”

Neville shook his head. “I don’t know or care. We aren’t going to Azkaban and we aren’t expelled. We ought to be thankful, Harry.”

Harry scuffed beside him and started shoving crumpets in his mouth in a way that causes Neville to wrinkle his nose.

Fudge returned after a few moments. “Sirius and Lupin will be gathering you lot.” He said to them. “I’ll be off…” 

Fudge cleared his throat loudly and picked up His pinstriped cloak.

“Have you had any luck with Pettigrew yet?” Neville cut in.

Fudge’s finger slipped on the silver fastenings of his cloak.

“What’s that? You heard? Of course, you have. No, nothing yet but it’s only a matter of time. The Azkaban guards have never failed and they’re angrier than I’ve ever seen them.”

Fudge shuddered slightly.

A loud pop revealed two wizards with angry, stern expressions.

“Well, I’m off then.” Fudge spoke with an edge of discomfort in his voice again. 

“You two. Up.” Sirius hissed through his teeth. His hair appeared stragglier than ever and his beard was rather unkempt. Lupin just looked utterly exhausted. 

Neither he nor Harry hesitated. Once they were by their side, Lupin took his arm while Sirius took Harry’s and they Side Along Apparated with them back to 12 Grimmauld place.

Gran was waiting there with a stern expression that could give Professional McGonagall a run for her money.

“Sit.” She hissed. 

They sat down on the couch, not daring to look at each other.

“Explain.” 

Harry divulged into the tale immediately, pointedly leaving out the drug use, of course.

Gran was seething by the end.

“Do you even _realize_ the danger you could have been in? What if Peter Pettigrew had found you? Have you no sense of safety?” She glared at Harry. “Suppose this was your idea, Potter? I _will not _have you corrupt the boy who lived!” She boomed through the room.

“Quite enough, Agatha.” growled Lupin. “Neville has a mind of his own and I doubt that Harry could make him do anything. To suggest otherwise would be underestimating him just the same as most others.”

Neville suppressed a smile at that. Despite his achievements, he was always treated as though he was some incompetent, meek, child. It was nice that an adult acknowledged otherwise.

Gran looked livid but didn’t interject.

“That being said, you two need to recognize the danger you are in. Peter Pettigrew is after you. He wants revenge on Neville in particular for that night in 1981 where You-Know-Who fell. Not just that but we have reason to believe he may be after Harry as well. He knows your involvement in the activities the past few years. We both remember him from the past few wars—” Lupin paused as though he was going to add to it but he didn’t.

“Yes. So, it’s about time you take your own safety seriously. Sneaking out to Muggle shops—and I can’t fathom why you would—-but blowing up Muggles, even if accidental and seemed deserved it—”

“Sirius!” Lupin hissed in a warning tone. 

Sirius looked momentarily flustered, “Right. So obviously you’re both grounded. No Exploding Snap or uh the other Muggle entertainment you enjoy, Harry. I don’t know what you do for fun, Neville but you can’t do it anymore!” He turned to Lupin and shrugged.

Lupin was clearly trying to suppress a bemused smile. “Quite right. We will be getting your textbooks and other supplies this year. Then both of you will get a start on your studies for this coming year.” He glanced at Harry a stern glance.

“I took the liberty of taking your Muggle stereo and rather rancid smelling plant you stole from Muggles.” He paused before adding, “And added Care for Magical Creatures to your other two extra classes so that you and Neville can proper look after each other.

“Surprised you didn’t take away Muggle Studies.” He muttered.

Lupin chuckled. “We aren’t about to take away a class we find commendable, especially for a Slytherin. It is unheard of. We are proud of you for that.” 

Harry managed to smile for a moment before remembering he was mad at them and scowled.

Lupin shook his head slightly before Harry could speak up again. 

“I don’t know what path you’re headed down Harry, sometimes.” He turned to Neville then. “Surprised you went along with it.” He scolded. “You need to keep your mind clear for the future.”

Gran cleared her throat. “You _need_ to be living up to your title. Did my book from last Christmas teach you nothing?”

Neville slouched where he sat, his heart sinking at the disappointment he caused. Then another thought occurred to him.

“How did the Minister know where we were going?” Neville asked.

Lupin and Sirius exchanged glances. 

“Never you mind. Just be glad it was us and not someone far more sinister!” Lupin boomed at them.

The room remained silent. Not even Harry dared to talk back.

“That being said. Both Sirius and I will be with you at Hogwarts, in case you were thinking you could start up another round of hi-jinks while there.”

“Oh, you mean the ones that saved everyone?” Harry retorted loudly.

Gran sent him an infuriated glance, “You will not speak to any of us that way, do you understand?” 

Neville wilted beside him despite it not being directed to him.

Harry glared back defiantly. Neville knew he was right but now was not the time to point it out.

“Shh.” He said in a warning whisper.

She turned in an instant to Neville, “And you! Don’t be a pathetic follower. You are a leader. You are the boy who lived. Start acting like you have sense!” 

“Yes ma’am.” Neville said, his eyes glancing downward.

“What? You can’t just—he’s not just some muppet who survived a killing curse! Why do you always tell him how to be?” Harry exclaimed loudly.

“Enough.” Sirius Said, a bit softer. 

Neville didn’t look up from the floor.

“I will be your new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor and Sirius will be there as extra security. In case the one in place goes horribly wrong, which I suspect it will.” Lupin said gravely.

“Grand. Can’t bloody wait.” Harry grumbled. “Can we go now?”

Neville sighed. He’d be much more excited if he didn’t have such a strong sense of foreboding.

“Yes. Off to your rooms!” Lupin said.

Neville finally stood; shoulders slightly slumped. He nearly toppled over after he tripped over his feet.

“Glad you will be teaching us, Mr. Lupin. We will finally have a competent Professor. And it will be nice Sirius will be there too.” He tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace.

Harry glared at him as he passed, mouthing, “Traitor” as he walked by and then up the stairs, slamming the door behind him.

Neville ignored it. He knew they deserved the punishment they had gotten. It could have been worse!

“Thank you, Neville.” Lupin said with a beaming Sirius beside him.

“Oh, and Neville...your Gran means well but—you really aren’t required to be anything but Neville, you know that, right?” Sirius added.

“Yes, sir.” Neville said.

_He means well but he really has no idea what’s expected of me._

Neville trudged to his room and shut the door. He plopped down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. He thought of that big black dog-like creature with a shudder of fear. He wondered what it meant. _Is it related to Peter Pettigrew? _He let out a sigh. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

_I probably won't since Sirius and Lupin was going to be present on campus. _

With the thought of hovering adults and the lack of permission to Hogsmeade, Neville let out an audible sigh. This _is going to be a long year._ He thought gloomily.


	3. Dementor on the Hogwarts Express.

Draco wisely stayed out of his father’s way for the first part of the holiday. He was in a sour mood even for him. The new House-elf, Dotty, took the brunt of it. There were moments of guilt but he figured it was better that it was it rather than him.

Then father started to act strange. He was often home late and retreated directly to his study. Draco knew better than to spy. He had made it through the summer with less bruising than the prior year so far.

When a close follower of the Dark Lord mysteriously broke out of Azkaban, the atmosphere in the household changed. Father seemed so unnaturally cheerful that even Dotty was suspicious.

Draco had a sickening feeling formulate in the pit of his stomach. The timing was far from coincidental. 

One night, Draco dared to listen in at the door of his study, curiously overruling his good sense. Whoever was in there with his father either used the Floo set up in the study or Apparated in there. Either way, father didn’t want the identity of the person known.

As he leaned his ear against the dark wood, he heard hushed voices coming in and out of focus. He hoped it was enough to obtain useful information. He pressed himself as close to the door as possible and listened.

“....Dark Lord.” The voice sounded familiar.

“Quite. Everything happened according to plan. He has been freed.” His father replied.

“...Fudge remember?” Draco’s brows shot up. _Was that Snape?_

“Fudge’s memory was modified for our purposes. As far as he knows we were there for a simple inspection of the prison and its inhabitants.” His father’s cold laugh sent chills down Draco’s spine.

“That’s good. What about the dreams and him muttering he’s at Hogwarts? Do you suppose he is after Longbottom---and perhaps Potter as well?” Draco was certain it was Snape now.

“Ah. No telling what was going on in his warped mind.” Father sounded appallingly unconcerned. Draco’s heart had plummeted into his throat. _After Longbottom and Potter? Of course, my father doesn’t care. Or perhaps he knows more than he’s letting on._

“Pettigrew did not do well in Azkaban. He is _weak._ How he escaped is beyond me.” Father was saying.

_Wait. They didn’t orchestrate his escape? _Draco’s mind raced with endless possibilities.

“You did not aid his escape?” Snape sounded rather incredulous.

“No. I was instructed to inform the followers on recent developments. It is prudent information that perhaps the Dark Lord is closer to returning. I am just as baffled as you are.” Father said. 

”Quite. I remember him from school following _James Potter _and his worthless crew like a puppy.” Draco could almost see him sneering. “All of the others that have remained loyal were also told of the events of the past two years?” Snape added.

“Yes.” Father shortly replied. “But not specifically about the diary. Just that there have been rumours...and speculations. Wouldn’t want to make it sound like I failed the Dark Lord, would we?

Draco slid away from the door; his face ashen. _How did Peter Pettigrew escape then? Why was father informing Voldemort’s followed? _He knew, of course, that his father was a sympathizer of the Dark Lord and had been disappointed when he fell. He never thought about the possibility that his father was a follower. _What about Snape? Was he a follower as well?_ Draco’s head was spinning. 

It was times like these that he wished he had someone to go to. Crabbe and Goyle’s parents were Death Eaters nor did he fully trust them. Pansy was always an admirer of the Dark Lord, and he and Potter were no longer on speaking terms. He didn’t trust anyone else.

He retreated to his room before his father saw or heard him. He paced the floor, his heart beating fast. He had been taught since he was a child about the Dark Lord’s regime and had gathered that his father’s views fell in line with his. Never had he realized his father was—-a follower or an informant. _Is my father a Death Eater?_

He sat down on his bed. _Is Snape a Death Eater?_ His father always wore long sleeves so he couldn’t see if he bore the mark. He gulped. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Yet at the same time, he did.

He could sneak and try to discover it on his own or he could ask. _It might lead to him hexing me._ He sighed. _Unless I act supportive of the idea. _He frowned. _Aren’t I, though? Aren’t I supposed to be? The Dark Lord does have the same ideals as the Malfoy family. But he was also a terrible murderer. _He wanted to believe that his family were only in agreement with his cause and not his methods. _Not much hope there._ He thought a bit sadly.

He didn’t have the chance to ask his father any questions even if he wanted to because he was gone a lot. _Almost like he’s planning something. _

By the end of the summer he heard his father speaking to someone about Longbottom and Potter blowing up a few Muggle lads. Draco had to tiptoe from the study door and escape to his room so that he could have a laugh over the mental imagery. _I didn’t know you lot had it in you_!

Soon after, received his letter from Hogwarts with the list of supplies he needed. He was excited to see a permission slip to Hogsmeade. His mother and father seemed concerned about his safety but he was skilled in getting his way so they eventually caved.

In his excitement he forgot about spying on his father until the day before his departure. His father informed him that he couldn’t come to see him off.

“What could be more important than our son?” Mother shrilly asked.

“The family name.” His father responded in a dangerous tone that caused Draco to flinch. 

His mother seemed to whither before him. The colour drained from Draco’s face. He had spent so much time and energy trying to find out what his father was up to while also avoiding his presence he hadn’t realized that Dotty wasn’t the only one suffering. _How can I leave mother behind with my father?_

He forced his expression to return to the stoic mask out of fear that father would be suspicious but he had already left the room. It was the last time he saw him that summer.

Mother must have seen the look on his face because she strode over and cupped his face into her hands. “Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself.” She pulled back with a smile.

Draco tried to return the smile but it was far from genuine. Aside from his worry, he missed her hugs. Since turning thirteen in June, his parents decided that he was too old for hugs. He had to start his preparation to become the heir when he became of age. Draco had no idea what his parents hugging him had to do with anything but he knew better than to argue. His mother found other ways to show affection, but he already missed her hugs.

As they stood before the mighty Hogwarts Express, his mother turned to him, “Stay out of trouble, and mind what you eat.” She gave him a pointed look. She put her hand on his rather bony shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“Yes mother.” He said to her. “Please be safe. Don’t do anything...upsetting.” There was an air of concern in his voice and a pleading in his gaze.

She nodded, “Of course, son. You either.” She sent him a pointed look. “Love you.” She appeared like she might cry but she did not. _Malfoys don’t cry._ He recited automatically.

“Love you too.” He turned away, weighted by his own emotions. 

He didn’t glance back as he entered the train and looked around for his mates. It didn’t take long for him to find Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Pansy’s jet-black hair rolled down to her shoulders and her sharp Hazel eyes always seemed to be calculating something. He never quite noticed how pretty she was. Gryffindors said she had the face of a bulldog but that lot was clearly blind. They preferred woodland creatures like Weasel and Granger with her beaver teeth. 

Crabbe and Goyle looked the same. Crabbe had the same awful pudding-bowl haircut and Goyle’s bristly hair made him look like a baby porcupine. It was disturbing. He thought perhaps he and Pansy should have an intervention. No Slytherin should have hair that was abysmal. 

“Hello.” He greeted as he entered the compartment. 

“Hello, Draco.” Pansy said with a smile.

Crabbe and Goyle grunted in unison. Draco couldn’t help but think about last year at this time. Harry had been sitting with them then. He shook it off. _Who cares about him anyway?_

The Hogwarts Express moved steadily North and the scenery outside the window became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened. Draco heard roaming, heavy feet clomping back and forward past their compartment. After a while, he opened the door and held out his leg, tripping some moronic first year that was likely to be sorted into Hufflepuff. Pansy giggled gaily, and Crabbe and Goyle let out troll-like grunts. 

“Serves you right running around like you were raised by wild animals!” He called out.

They stopped after that.

Around one o’clock, the plump witch with food cart arrived at the compartment door.

“Would you like anything?” She offered in a sickeningly sweet tone.

“No, thank you.” He said curtly.

Pansy ordered a few things and Crabbe and Goyle seemed to have ordered half of the sweets on the trolley. Draco sighed, his stomach rumbling with hunger at the sight of it all. Yet he refrained.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything, Draco?” Pansy asked in a low voice while Crabbe and Goyle took no issue tucking into their delight.

“No. I am not hungry.” He stated.

She perked her brows, “Oh no? Because I could have sworn, I heard your stomach growl.” Slight amusement rang in her voice.

“You must be hearing their stomachs. Or worse yet you’re hallucinating.” He returned wickedly.

She always laughed with her whole body. He smirked despite himself.

“Oh, you!” She slapped his shoulder lightly. Her expression became serious again. “You are awfully thin, Draco.” Her voice was just above a whisper.

“I’ve always been angular.” His voice became stiff. “I’m going to...take a walk. Crabbe? Goyle? Are you coming?” He demanded, unable to hold her gaze.

_She is being odd. _ He thought to himself. 

Crabbe and Goyle glared at him because they had only just started shoving their faces with food but didn’t argue. They must have thought that harassing the other students was even more important than food at that moment. Or perhaps their tiny pea brains recognized the tension in their compartment. They left Pansy alone in the compartment.

Draco glanced around, smirking slightly. Anyone in the aisles were pushed out of the way by Crabbe and Goyle. He spotted Longbottom’s round form and stopped, peering in. 

“Well, look who it is.” He drawled out as he pulled open the compartment door. “You know Longbottom, your name is incorrect. It should be Largebottom.” Crabbe and Goyle grunted in laughter beside him.

“Oh, shut it, Malfoy.” Weasel said. 

Neville glared at him but oddly enough said nothing. _What in Merlin’s name is wrong with him? _His brows rose as he realized that perhaps he was terrified that Pettigrew was after him. Draco pushed it all down, determined not to think about it. 

He didn’t want to think about how he inadvertently met the Dark Lord last year or the way his father seemed happy about Pettigrew’s escape or the thought that he might be a Death Eater. He didn’t want to think of how Potter was likely in danger because of his part in taking down the Dark Lord the past few years. Most of all, he didn’t want to think about how everything was changing.

He forced himself to sneer at his ugly ginger face. “What’s wrong, Weasel? Gone hungry from being too poor to buy food?”

“Go away, Malfoy. Your insults are tired.” Potter said as though he was actually bored with him.

Draco did a double take at Potter. He was wearing dreadful, holey Muggle trousers, an ugly red and black checkered thing over a black shirt with a demented looking smiley face on it. His raven hair was shoulder-length and as wild as ever. His trainers looked like they used to be white but were so dirty it was hard to tell. _He looks like a peasant! _

“Ugh! Potter! What are you wearing?” He was appalled. 

Potter dared to send him one of his dashing smiles. “I am wearing clothes, Malfoy.” He cheekily replied.

He scowled back. “No, you are dressed like you meandered off the streets. Honestly, who lets you out like that? I suppose when you haven’t any _sane_ parents---” He regretted it the moment it left his lips.

Potter’s expression turned stormy and Weasel stood up so quickly he knocked down the basket beside him.

They all paused at the snoring sound nearby.

“Who’s that?” He asked, distracted.

“New professor.” said Potter, who was smirking again. He stood to his feet to hold Weasel back from him. “What were you saying, Malfoy?”

He narrowed his gaze at him. He wasn’t about to start anything with a Professor so nearby.

“C’mon.” He muttered to Crabbe and Goyle and they returned to their own compartment. 

His heart was pounding out of his chest, his thoughts all pouring back into him again. One they returned; Pansy sent him reproachful glares but he ignored it. Crabbe and Goyle said nothing at all as they gorged themselves gluttonously. 

The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering grey, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled as the rain hammered on and the wind roared. 

Then the train started to slow down. Draco perked a brow. _We can't be nearly there yet._ He thought to himself.

“Why are we stopping?” Pansy mused out loud as she poked her head out of the compartment. 

Draco stood up and glanced out beside her with a sense of foreboding. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments.

The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

“What in Salazar’s name is going on?” Pansy demanded.

“I haven’t the foggiest.” He tried to keep the fear out of his voice as he felt his way back to his seat.

He wiped a patch clean on the window and peered outside. He was vaguely aware of Pansy beside him. 

“What is this?” Crabbe grunted.

“Where’s the lights?” Goyle asked, several steps behind as usual.

Light glided past their compartment and Draco practically jumped to his feet and opened the door. He stepped out and headed toward where the corridor was dimly lit. He was about to demand what was going on when he saw it.

Illuminated by flames held in the hand of the professor that he saw earlier, stood a tall cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. He made the horrible mistake of glancing downward. A shiver ran down his spine as he saw a glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and actively decaying hand protruding from the cloak, reaching for those inside. His feet remained rooted in place as he heard a rattling intake of breath. It was as though it was trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

He felt a horrible sinking sensation. It was a coldness in his chest that wasn’t from the temperature. It was the sort of trapped emptiness he felt when his father berated him or hexed him because he had once again let down the family. It was something that left a mark on the soul because there was nothing left outside of the frigid ice. It closed into a fist and squeezed, leaving him entrapped in the darkness. _I’m all alone. I’m all alone. _

It quickly became a void that he had fallen into. Even his heart felt hollow, as though his insides were being carved from inside out. He just knew he’d be lost there forever. 

There was a crackling noise and then the lights flickered on. The feeling quickly dissipated. He blinked rapidly as he stood still, frozen in the middle of the corridor. He could have sworn people were staring but he didn’t care. He ran down toward where Potter was. 

“Potter?!” He yelled.

He, Granger, Weasel, Weaselette, and the new professor was surrounding Longbottom, quite concerned. He did appear rather peaked. The professor cracked off pieces of chocolate and handed a large one to Longbottom.

“Here. Eat it. It will help.” He was saying.

Longbottom nodded and then took a bite of it.

“What was that?” asked Harry, who looked quite sickly himself.

“A dementor.” The professor answered as he held out chocolate to everyone else. He paused when he spotted Draco.

His eyes widened and hurried off without another word. _Potter is OK._ He thought to himself, relieved. 

He wordlessly plopped down in his seat once he returned to his compartment. He was certain Pansy was speaking to him but she became background noise. All he could think of was the ‘dementor’ as the professor had called it, how it made him feel, and the fact that it seemed to go straight to Longbottom. _Hanging with that lump is going to get Potter killed one of these days. _He thought in agitation. _At least I don’t ensure an untimely death._

He remained silent for the rest of the journey. At long last, the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get outside. It was freezing on the tiny platform; rain was driving down in icy sheets. He shivered, remembering how he felt once again. _It was like I’d never be whole again._

‘Firs’ years this way!” The oaf’s thundering voice cut through his thoughts. 

He scuffed and rolled his eyes as he glared at the tiny, terrified-looking new students who were being ushered by the oaf into the boats for their traditional journey across the lake. He walked away as he heard him speak to Longbottom and his lot. He frowned at the unmanned carriages. _It’s so creepy how they seem to pull us by themselves. _He thought as he entered the moldy smelling carriage. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. 

“Don’t they _ever_ clean these things?” He remarked loudly.

Some of the other students around him snickered.

As the carriage trundled toward a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, Draco saw two more towering, hooded dementors, standing guard on either side. He gulped, his eyes widening as he felt a heaviness in his chest. He closed his eyes as he remained still, pretending to rest his eyes. He only opening them after they passed the looming figures.

The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle; Draco stared out the tiny window, watching the many turrets and towers draw nearer. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt, and Draco got out.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Neville. Dementors are awful.” Draco heard Granger say. He turned as she visibly shuddered.

“But did any of you faint?” Longbottom’s cheeks were red.

“No but Ginny was shaking like mad and Harry—” 

“Never mind that!” Potter interrupted Weasel. 

Draco frowned, curious about what had happened to Potter.

“Are you hearing this, Draco? Longbottom fainted!” Pansy giggled gaily.

Inwardly, Draco winced but he couldn’t let on that he cared about any of them.

He forced a sneer, “You _fainted, _Longbottom? You actually fainted?”

He elbowed past Hermione to cut them off, forcing himself to appear gleeful.

“Shove off, Malfoy.” Weasel’s jaw was clenched as he spoke.

“Did you faint as well, Weasley? How about you, Potter?” He purposely raised his voice even as his chest seemed to tighten and chill into ice the same way when he was near the dementor.

He vaguely heard Pansy and several others giggling at his words.

“Is there a problem?” Came an annoyingly mild voice. 

He glanced over. It was that same Professor. He gave him an insolent stare, taking in his tattered appears for. His robes has unseemly patches and carried a dilapidated suitcase. 

“Oh, no. Of course not, Professor.” He responded with a hint of sarcasm.

He smirked at Crabbe and Goyle as they made their way up to the castle, joining the swarming crowd, through the giant oak front doors, into the cavernous entrance hall, which was lit with flaming torches, and housed a magnificent marble staircase that led to the upper floors.

The door into the Great Hall stood open at the right. Draco followed the crowd toward it but had barely glimpsed the enchanted ceiling when he heard Professor McGonagall called out into the mass of crowd.

“Longbottom! Potter! I want to see you both!” 

He tried to hear further details but he quickly lost them in the crowd.

Draco’s mind raced, tuning out the new students getting sorted into Houses. He doubted it differed from any other year. He kept thinking of the dementor, how Longbottom fainted, Potter’s unknown reaction to it and the fact that McGonagall wanted to speak to them immediately after. His mind always circled back to the dementor. He had seen another one by the school which made it all the more unnerving.

Dumbledore’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Although he was rather old even Draco had to admit he held great energy. He had several feet of long silver hair and beard, half-moon spectacles, and a horribly crooked nose.

Some described him as the greatest wizard of the age but he knew it was bloody rubbish. He was as batty as they came. 

“Welcome!” said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his unsightly beard. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you, and as one of them is serious, I think it’s best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…”

_Not ominous at all._ He thought with a frown.

The crazy coot cleared his throat and continued, “As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors from Azkaban, who are here in the Ministry of Magic business.”

“Is he mad?” He whispered sharply to Pansy as the Professor paused for what could only be for effect. _This is reckless, even for him!_

“They are stationed at the entrance of the grounds.” Dumbledore continued.

“This is absurd. Why should we be in danger because someone is after The-Boy-Who-Lived? Keep him home!” Pansy’s words drowned out whatever the butter was saying. The consensus was that those listening agreed with her.

“...warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors.

_Of course. Otherwise you would have to do your bloody job. _He thought bitterly.

“On a happier note,” he continued, “I am pleased to welcome two professors to our ranks this year as well as the new head of security.”

“First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.”

Draco rolled his eyes. He wasn’t impressed so far. He glanced up at Snape who was eyeing the new Professor with a loathing expression. Draco quickly averted his gaze, remembering his conversations with father over the summer.

“Our second new appointment,” Dumbledore continued. “Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, who taught Care of Magical Creatures, retired at the end of the end of last year. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job on top of his gamekeeping duties.”

Draco’s mouth hung open. _He has got to be joking! That oaf, teaching? _The bloody Gryffindors were cheering like the half-wit lunatics they were. Potter and Draco exchanged looks of horror. _At least we are on the same page here. _He idly wondered if he was also taking Care of Magical Creatures, a class he now regretted. _No wonder I was sent a book that tried to murder me._

He seemed to have missed the rest of what Dumbledore said because the next thing he knew, he announced, “Let the feast begin!”

The golden plates and goblets filled with food and drink. He picked and chose what he put on his plate but barely ate it despite the hunger aching in the hollow core of his belly.

He ignored the annoyingly concerned glances sent his way from Pansy and quickly excused himself from the table. After obtaining the password from the bloody Prefect with the pretense that he was feeling ill, he retired to his dormitory. Sleep didn’t come easy. 

Once he finally did, he dreamed that a dementor inhaled an icy cold breath and sucked away his skin until he was nothing but bones. As soon as he caught sight of his meat-less frame; they broke apart until all that was left of him was a pile of bones. He woke up sweating and shaking. He refused to return to sleep after that.

As he sat in the Great Hall the next morning, trying to hide his exhaustion, he listened to Pansy as she recounted what she and Draco had overheard about Longbottom and Potter when the dementors attacked. She cut off quickly when she spotted them come in with Granger and Weasel. As they passed, he did a rather ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and many of those at their table laughed. He ignored the familiar scuff from Nott.

“Hey! Hey Longbottom! Potter! The dementors are coming! _Wooooo!” _Pansy called out. 

Everyone laughed harder, especially as Longbottom paled and Potter had to deal with the humiliating of sitting at the table of students poking fun at him.

That sick feeling took hold of him again and he didn’t bother to finish his apple.

He stared down at his new schedule instead. It seemed he had Arithmancy first. His eyes narrowed at Care of Magical Creatures class that afternoon. He had been excited about the class until he found out that bloody oaf was teaching it. He sighed, his gaze momentarily raising when he felt eyes on him. 

Potter’s intense emerald eyes were fixated on him from behind his ugly black frames. His hair was a rat’s nest as always. Potter was glowering at him menacingly.

“Haven’t you ever heard of a brush? Or hair gel? You’re starting to look like that oaf you love so much!” Draco called out to him; his fixated gaze was making him uncomfortable.

Potter slammed his fork onto the table and stood up, seething. Draco’s eyes widened slightly but he found himself standing too. Draco knew better than to make the first move, especially as a hush fell over the Great Hall.

After a strange, elongated standoff, Potter silently turned and left. Draco felt dizzy so he sat down, unsure what to think of the exchange. He rubbed his temples irritably. He had a feeling that it was going to be a long and trying day.


	4. The rabid Hippogriff and the Boggart.

After aimlessly picking at his lunch, Draco headed out of the castle for his first Care of Magical Creatures class. He had been dreading it ever wince Dumbledore announced that the oaf was the professor. He was glad that at least the rain had cleared and the sky was cloudless. He wasn’t, however, too fond of the springy dampness of the grass beneath his feet.

Crabbe and Goyle’s troll feet trudged on either side of him as they journeyed down the sloping lawn to the oaf’s hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Draco scuffed at the state of the oaf’s hut. 

“It somehow has managed to look shabbier than last year.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Crabbe and Goyle were chortling with laughter as he spotted Longbottom, Finnigan, Granger, Potter and Ron approaching.

_Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse. _He thought irritably. He forced a sneer in their direction.

The oaf was waiting for them at the door of his hut. He was wearing a dreadful moleskin overcoat and had his obnoxious, cowardly dog next to him.

“C’mon, now, get a move on!” He called out to them. “Got a real treat for Yep today! Great lesson comin’ up! Everyone here? Right, follow me.”

For a moment he thought the oaf was going to lead them into the forbidden forest. His heart started to pound. The memory of his detention there in his first year remained vivid in his mind.

_Thank Merlin_. Draco thought as oaf led them to the edge of the woods. Five minutes later, they found themselves outside of a large padlock. He found the fact that it was empty to be rather disturbing.

“Everyone gather ‘round the fence here!” He called. “That’s it—make sure yeh can see—-now, firs’ thing yeh’ll want ter do is open yer books—”

Draco had been attacked by the so-called book over the summer before managing to contain it by bounding it shut with Spellotape.

Draco scowled at the oaf, “How?”

“Eh?” The oaf stupidly replied.

“How do we open our books?” He repeated irritably.

He took out his bound copy of _The Monster Book of Monsters._ Others followed suit and he was rather glad to see that everyone else had the same problem.

“Hasn’—hasn’t anyone bin able yet open their books?” exclaimed the idiotic oaf.

Draco couldn’t help but sneer as the whole lot shook their heads.

“Yeh’ve got ter _stroke _them,” said the oaf, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Look—”

He took Granger’s copy, and ripped off the Spellotape that bound it. Draco was irritated that she had the same idea as he did. 

The book tried to bite, but Hagrid ran a giant forefinger down its spine. The book shivered and then fell open, lying quietly in his hand.

“Oh, how silly we’ve all been!” Draco loudly stated. “We should have_ stroked_ them! Why didn’t we guess?”

“I-I thought they were funny.” Hagrid said with uncertainty. 

“Oh, tremendously funny!” Draco continued. “Really witty, giving us books that try to rip our hands off!”

“Shut up, Malfoy.” Longbottom was saying nearby.

Draco narrowed his eyes at Longbottom. The oaf spoke again but Draco wasn’t keen on listening to whatever he was on about. When the oaf walked away, he spoke up.

“Merlin, this place is found to the dogs!” Draco loudly stated. “That oaf shouldn’t be teaching classes! My father’ll have a fit when I tell him—”

“Shut your trap, Malfoy.” Longbottom dared to repeat.

“Careful, Longbottom, there’s a dementor behind you—-”

The plant Gryffindor dared to interrupt him with her incessant squealing. When he turned his head, he spotted what had her all in a tizzy. 

Trotting toward them were a dozen of the most bizarre creatures he’d ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and the head of a giant eagle. It had cruel, steel-coloured beaks, and brilliant orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and looked rather deadly. Each of the beasts had a thick collar wound its neck, which was attached to a chain held by the oaf. 

“Oh, yeah. Those don’t look dangerous at all.” He muttered darkly.

“Gee up here!” The oaf roared, shaking the chains and urging the creatures toward the fence where the class stood. 

Everyone drew back as the oaf approached with those _things_.

“Hippogriffs!” The oaf roared happily as he waved his hand at them. “Beau’iful, aren’ they?”

Draco tuned him out as he turned to Crabbe and Goyle.

“Should be easy to get the oaf fired now.” He whispered to Crabbe and Goyle.

“Ya. How?” Crabbe’s brows were furrowed in confusion.

Draco sighed. “Telling my father. He knows all _sorts _of people—-”

“Right. Who wants ter go first?” The oaf’s words caught his attention. _First to do what?_

He, like the majority of the class, backed up.

“No one?” The oaf’s expression was quite pathetic .

“I-I’ll do it.” Longbottom spoke up.

Everyone turned to gape at him.

“You? You’ll probably fall on your face before you get near it. It will think you’re a big round cake to eat!” Draco exclaimed. 

Crabbe and Goyle grunted with laughter.

Longbottom strangely didn’t reply. He dropped his head to the ground.

“Why don’t you go then, Malfoy? If you’re so bloody smart.” Weasel chimed in. 

Everyone was looking at him now. _Oh shit._ He thought to himself. 

“Me? Get near that thing? No way.” He forced a smirk. The thought of getting near that thing was terrifying to say the least.

“Scared, are you?” Weasel pressed.

“No, I’m not bloody scared. Why don’t you go? I’m sure your family wouldn’t notice you’re gone since there are so many of them.” 

“Shut up.” Longbottom said quietly.

“What was that? Can’t quite hear you?” Draco snickered.

“I said shut up you lout.” Longbottom repeated. “I’ll go.”

Draco’s eyes widened considerably as he watched him step forward.

“Good lad, Neville!” The oaf said. “Right then. Let’s see how yeh get on with Buckbeak.”

_That thing has a name? _He wrinkled his nose slightly in contempt. 

The oaf untied one of the chains, pulled the gray hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar. He narrowed his eyes at him maliciously. _Can’t wait until it tries to attack him. Then we’ll see how brave he is._

“Easy now. Yeh’ve got to make eye contact, now try not ter blink…” 

Draco tuned out the oaf and focused on Longbottom. He had dark circles under his eyes and he looked rather peaked. He was lumpier than before but it was evenly distributed. There was a strange sort of sadness behind the look of utter terror caused by the creature in front of him. Draco was suddenly a bit nervous. _Trust the oaf to get The Boy Who Lived killed when the Dark Lord could not._

The cheering broke his concentration. The hippogriff was bowing to him. 

“Righ’ then, Neville!” Said the oaf. “I reckon he might’ let yeh ride him!”

“You can’t even ride a bloody broom! Besides, your fat ass would squash the beast!” Draco exclaimed with a snicker. 

“Shut up, Malfoy. Leave him alone.” Potter spoke up but he looked worried. 

Rightfully so. It didn’t appear to be a harmless creature. 

He watched Potter lean over and whisper something into Longbottom’s ear. For some reason it made his blood boil. He suddenly hoped he broke his fat ass.

Longbottom shook his head and stepped forwards again. Neville placed his foot on top of Buckbeak’s wing and hoist himself up, whispering something quietly to it. He sat up there without wobbling, looking quite confident. With the slap of the hindquarters, the hippogriff shot off.

Draco glanced up as they flew through the skies. He half expected Longbottom to fall to his death but he didn’t.

After a bit, the hippogriff swooped down again and hit the ground with a thud, a wide-eyed and smiling Neville still intact.

It took all of his energy not to clap with the rest of the class.

“Alrigh’ who's next?”

Everyone seemed inspired by Longbottom’s success. Everyone else was bowing to the creatures. He, Crabbe, and Goyle approached Buckbeak. It didn’t take long for Buckbeak to bow down to them.

He couldn’t believe he was impressed even for a moment.

“This is very easy.” He drawled out loudly. “I knew it must have been, if Longbottom could do it. I bet you aren’t dangerous at all, are you?” He said to the Hippogriff. “Are you, you great ugly brute?”

It happened in a flash of steely talons. He shrieked as the beast rammed forward into him and knocked him over. He felt a sharp pain in his arm. The humiliation and fear he felt was far worse. He trembled, terrified that it was going to finish him off with everyone watching. He could have sworn he saw it come at him to have another go. He was still screaming as the oaf wrestled him back away from the horrific beast.

Once he was safe, he managed to curl up on the grass, shaking slightly, his eyes widened in shock. He glanced down at his robes coated in red and then at his arm. The cut was deep but it didn’t appear to be fatal. The experience itself was quite traumatic. He glanced around, taking note of the panicked looks on his classmates and the giant oaf alike. 

Potter stepped forward, “Malfoy? Are you alright?” He asked tentatively. 

He couldn’t trust himself to answer even though now that the monster was nowhere near him, he was starting to calm down. A new feeling emerged in its place. Fury and humiliation built up deep inside of him. He was utterly mortified by the experience. That oaf, he decided, had to pay. _I am going to get that oaf fired and kicked from the school now!_

“I’m dying!” He yelled out. “I’m dying, look at me! It’s killed me!” 

“Yer not dyin’” The oaf said despite his face paling. “Someone help me—gotta get him out of here—”

With the way he was acting, Draco felt a new wave of panic ran through him. _What if the talons are poisonous? What if I am actually dying?_

He felt himself get lifted off the ground and at first, he thought it was all over but then his face was scratched by the oaf’s beard and he realized he was carrying him. 

“Haven’t you shaved a day in your life, oaf?” He said weakly.

“Yeh shut up now. Don’t be wasting energy movin’ tha’ gob is yehs.” The oaf replied coarsely. 

He looked down at his arm properly and took note of the deep gash in his arm. He whimpered quietly, feeling quite weak and dizzy. _Please don’t let me die in the arms of this useless oaf. _He thought before he was wrapped around in the comfort of darkness like a warm blanket.

He woke up in the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey standing over him with a stern expression.

“Am I going to die?” He asked meekly.

“No, surely not. Lucky that he got you here so fast, though. You lost a lot of blood.” She said with a frown. “Professor Hagrid said you were injured by a Hippogriff?” She added incredulously.

“Yes.” He was too tired to say anything else.

“What in Merlin’s name was he doing letting you near a Hippogriff?” She huffed irritably.

He was glad that at least one other person had the sense to realize the danger they were put in. His lips curled into a scowl when he realized she was staring down at him with such pity it made him sick.

“I don’t know, but my father will hear of this.” He said tersely. This time he bloody meant it.

The actual recovery time was relatively short but he knew that in order to get his revenge on the oaf he had to milk it for what’s worth. He moaned and carried on as though in agony. _Oh, yes. The oaf will pay._

Despite the physical pain dissipating; he had frequent nightmares about the Hippogriff. He woke up, sweating and screaming in a way that frightened him. As humiliating as it was, he didn’t reject the Calming Draught and Dreamless Sleep Potion that Madam Pomfrey gave him small doses.

The day after the incident he carefully wrote to his father and had Pansy send it via owl immediately. She often came and doted on him during his stay. He rather enjoyed the attention. She basically waited on him hand and foot. _My own personal house-elf. _He thought to himself, though he had to admit it was also nice to know someone actually cared what happened to him.

Father’s returned his reply shortly after.

_\Glad you are alright. I will take care of that oaf once and for all._

Cold, yet reassuring. _At least something good will come from this horrific experience._

He didn't return to classes until late on Thursday. Madam Pomfrey didn’t let him take any more of the Dreamless Sleep Potion but he was prescribed a mild dose of the Calming Draught for a week. He figured if anyone asked, he’d say it was pain medicine from being mauled by that psychotic bird. He headed down to Potions. It was already half-over so he decided to make a show of it.

He swaggered into the dungeon, making sure his bandages and sling was clearly visible. He puffed out his chest and wore a brave expression that screamed, ‘I’m a survivor’. Everyone rightfully stared at him as he momentarily stopped by Pansy.

“How is it, Draco?” Pansy asked. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah.” He said, putting in a brave grimace.

Crabbe and Goyle raised a brow at him from the next row. He didn’t want to seem like a wimp so he sent them a cocky wink when Pansy wasn’t looking.

He caught Potter distinctly scowling at him. He sneered back maliciously and glanced away. 

“Settle down, settle down,” said Professor Snape idly.

All of the seats were taken except for one next to Neville and Harry so he reluctantly sat beside them. He stared at his desk as Snape spoke. It was difficult to look at him after what he overheard during the summer. He couldn’t let on that anything was off because nobody knew that he had heard them.

Professor Snape announced that they were making a new potion called the Shrinking Solution. As he set up his cauldron, an idea formulated to further emphasize the damage done by the beast. 

“Sir,” Draco called, “sir, I’ll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm—-”

“Potter, cut up Malfoy’s roots for him.” Snape said without glancing up.

Potter turned brick red. “There’s nothing wrong with your arm.” He hissed.

Draco smirked at him.

“Potter, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots.”

Potter seized his knife, pulled his roots toward him and chopped them up roughly. They all ended up being different sizes. _Is he trying to ruin my Potion? _He narrowed his gaze at him.

“Professor,” he drawled, “Potter is mutilating my roots, sir.”

Snape approaches their table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, and then gave Potter an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy hair.

“Change roots with Malfoy, Potter.”

“But, sir!” He exclaimed indignantly.

Draco almost felt bad because he had watched him carefully shred his own roots into exact, equal pieces. _Maybe if he didn’t try to butcher mine, he wouldn’t have to trade!_

“_Now_.” said Snape in his most dangerous tone.

Potter shoved his own beautifully cut roots at him, grumbling. Even Draco had to admit he did a good job. _If he actually bothered to try; maybe he wouldn’t be so abysmal at Potions._

He got an idea as he watched Potter skin his shrivelfig. _Maybe I can get him to wait on me hand and foot too._

“And, sir, I’ll need this shrivelfig skinned,” he said, his voice full of malicious laughter.

“Potter, you can also skin Malfoy’s Shrivelfig. I fear what might happen if Longbottom did it.”

Longbottom turned bright red and Potter seethed at Draco as he took his shrivelfig and skinned it. Longbottom seemed to take pity on Potter and started to attempt to repair his mitigated roots. This infuriated him for reasons he couldn’t fathom. _What do I care if Longbottom snogs Potter’s feet?_

Once Potter finished, he flung them back across at him without speaking. He smirked broadly; _glad _he was getting under his skin.

“See your pal Hagrid lately?” He asked them quietly.

“None of your business.” Snapped Potter. Longbottom merely paused a moment, turned bright red and then continued cutting the roots.

For a moment, Draco considered shutting up and leaving them alone. Something weird was up with the lump that he couldn’t pinpoint. He brushed it off. He wasn’t about to look weak.

“I’m afraid he won’t be a Professor much longer,” said Draco in a tone of mock sorrow. “Father’s not very happy about my injury—-”

“Keep talking, Malfoy, and I’ll give you a real injury.” Weasel said behind them.

“—he’s complained to the school governors. _And _to the Ministry of Magic. Father’s got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this” he gave a huge, fake sigh. “who knows if my arm’ll be the same again?”

He had no idea who, if anyone, his father went to. All he said was that he’d take care of it. Potter did not need to know that.

“So that’s why you’re putting it on,” said Potter as he beheaded a caterpillar with unnecessary brutal force. “To try to get Hagrid fired.”

He was shaking with anger.

Draco pushed down the bout of guilt as it washed over him.

“Well,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “_partly_, Potter. But there are other benefits too.” He scooted his caterpillar toward him. “Slice my caterpillars for me.” He smirked at Potter, who had daggers in his eyes.

His attention returned to Longbottom as Snape approached his cauldron. It was supposed to be bright acid green but as Snape held it up; everyone could see that it was orange. He snickered. _Pathetic_.

“Orange, Longbottom.” said Snape as he splashed it back into his cauldron. “Orange. Tell me, boy. Does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours or is it just there to contain your fame addled ego?”

Longbottom was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears.

From a distance Granger spoke up. “Please sir can I please help Neville put it right?”

“I don’t remember asking you to show off, miss Granger.” Snape said coldly.

Granger turned as pink as Longbottom. Draco smirked, relieved that someone _else_ was being humiliated rather than him.

He watched Snape move away. Draco sadly missed whatever else he said to Longbottom.

“..._Daily Prophet_ this morning—they reckon Peter Pettigrew’s been sighted.” Finnigan was saying in a low tone.

“Where?” Potter and Weasel asked quickly.

“Not far from here,” Finnigan seemed almost giddy about it.

“Not far from here.” Weasel repeated, sending Potter a significant look while simultaneously avoiding Longbottom. 

Longbottom and Granger were too busy with his disastrous potion to pay any mind to the conversation.

“What, Malfoy? Need something else skinned?” Potter asked him. 

Draco smirked; a malicious gaze glinted at Potter. He leaned across the table.

“Thinking of trying to catch Pettigrew single-handedly, Potter?” 

“Yeah, that’s right.” Potter said offhandedly.

His lips curled into a sneer, “Of course, if it was me,” he said quietly, “I’d have done something before now. I wouldn’t be staying in school like a good boy, I’d be out there looking for him, wouldn’t you say, Longbottom?”

He jumped slightly and glanced up at him wordlessly, simply staring. Potter glanced between Longbottom and him and frowned.

“What?” Potter asked after a few moments.

He narrowed his gaze, “Don’t either of you _know_?”

“Know what?” 

Longbottom was staring at him in confusion as well.

Draco let out a low, sneering laugh. 

“Maybe neither of you would rather risk your neck. Want to leave it to the dementors, do you? But if it were me, I’d want revenge. I’d hunt him down myself!”

“What are you on about_?_” Longbottom spoke up finally.

Draco glanced between the two of them, bewildered. _Did they really not know_? _How was that possible?_

His father had told him over the summer that Pettigrew was the reason Longbottom’s parents were dead and Potter’s parents were, found and tortured until insanity by Death Eaters.

_Why hasn’t anyone told them? _No matter how much he tried; he couldn’t push the question out of his mind. It plagued him for the rest of the day.

The next morning, they had their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Of course, the Gryffindors wouldn’t shut up about the bloody Boggarts so they already knew what was coming. Draco hated to think what would come to view when he stepped in front of the Bogart.

As they entered the classroom, there was a closet next to the desk. The professor up front was wearing shabby robes that made him look positively atrocious._ Is it that hard to properly dress oneself? _He thought with utter disdain. He frowned as he realized that he was the lad he saw when he first met Longbottom and Potter their first year. He had been with Potter’s guardian. _His lover, Potter had said._ He glanced over at him with more uncertainty than ever.

“Good afternoon,” Lupin said, “Would you please put all of your books back into your bags? Today will be a practical lesson. You will only need your wands.”

Draco raised a brow but did what he was told. He already exceeded expectations on the train with the dementor. _Even if he is bent. Although Father would be quite upset if he found out. He feared their agenda. _There was a time that he would have agreed or followed along with his father’s ideals but with everything that had happened, he was disillusioned to it all. He wasn’t sure how he felt about those who were bent but he was quite sure Lupin wasn’t about to turn them all into poufs with the flick of a wand.

“Right then.” said Lupin. “Everyone please step out in the corridor and line up.” 

_What is he getting at? _He wondered. Judging by the murmurs; he was not the only one questioning his methods. After a slight pause they lined up in the corridor. 

“Mental and dressed like a pauper. Is it possible for Dumbledore’s standards to have lowered?” Blaise commented behind him.

“Honestly. Who dresses like that?” Pansy agreed.

“Would you shove off on how he dresses? He happens to be brilliant.” Potter piped up a few paces behind him.

“Right. I saw him snogging that shaggy haired bloke that was with you. Are you being raised by poufs, Potter?” Theo drawled out. “Don’t you know how disgraceful that is?”

Before Potter could answer, Lupin showed up at the door. “Alright, you can come in now.”

They piled in one by one, maintaining their line in an orderly fashion. The classroom was completely transformed. The chairs and desks were crammed to the left so that the right side was made up of entirely empty space. The wardrobe stood up front against the wall ominously.

“Now, then.” He beckoned the class toward the wardrobe. 

As Professor Lupin stood beside it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, and thudded against the wall.

“Nothing to worry about,” said Professor Lupin calmly after a few people had jumped in alarm. “There’s a boggart in there.”

Most people seemed to feel that this _was _something to worry about. Several students eyed the exit of the classroom rather longingly while others focused on the rattling knob in front of them.

“Bogarts like dark, enclosed spaces,” said Professor Lupin. “Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks---I’ve even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock._ This_ one moved in the other day. I asked the headmaster if the staff would let it be so that I could give my third years some practice.

“So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what _is _a Boggart?”

Pansy raised her hand.

“It’s a shape-shifter.” She smugly stated. “It takes the form of what frightens us the most.”

“Good!” Lupin stated. “So, the Boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He doesn’t know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what the Boggart looks like when its alone. When I let him out, he will immediately become what each of us fears the most.

“This means,” said Professor Lupin, “that we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?”

Potter looked quite uncomfortable by the call out. Everyone turned toward him, some of their expressions were quite critical.

He took a moment before answering. “Er--because there are so many of us, it won’t know what shape it will be?”

“Precisely.” said Professor Lupin. “It’s always best to have company when you’re dealing with a Boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that very mistake. He tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening.

“The charm that repels a Boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing.

“We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please..._riddikulus_!”

“_Riddikulus_!” The class said together.

“Good.” said Professor Lupin. “Very good. But that was the easy part, I’m afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where I need a volunteer.

Everyone remained quiet for several moments. 

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake. I’ll do it.” Potter’s voice rang out through the classroom

“I admire your courage, Mr. Potter, but perhaps someone else should have a chance.” He pointed to Goyle. “You. How about you? Yes.”

Draco glanced over, taking note of the agitated glance he sent Professor Lupin. He stifled a snicker.

Goyle hesitantly stepped forward.

“First things first; what is your name?” Lupin asked. 

“Goyle.” 

“Great! Now, what would you say is the thing that frightens you the most in the world?”

Goyle’s troll-like face screwed up in confusion, as though the question was beyond his comprehension. Then his brows furrowed angrily, clearly not fond of the question.

“I haven’t any fears.” He grunted.

“Now, Goyle. Everyone fears something. It isn’t the fear that matters, it's how one deals with it.”

Goyle’s face screwed up again. He mumbled something incoherent.

“What was that? I couldn’t quite catch that.” Professor Lupin pressed.

“Snakes.” He said finally, his cheeks turning red.

Laughter filtered out into the room. Draco narrowed his gaze at him. _Seriously? Snakes? He’s in Slytherin, for Merlin’s sake! _He thought, taken aback.

Goyle glared at his classmates, silencing them immediacy. He admittedly had quite an effect on others, even within his own house.

Lupin remained thoughtful. “Snakes.” He said. “What is something that makes you laugh?”

Goyle twisted his features in a rather grotesque way before shrugging his shoulders dumbly.

“That’s OK.” He said to him. “Have you ever played with a fanged frisbee from Zonko’s Joke shop?” He asked after a few moments.

Goyle merely bobbed his fat head up and down. 

“Can you envision it quite clearly in your mind?” Lupin continued.

He nodded again.

“When the Boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Goyle, and sees you, it will assume the form of a snake. I want you to raise your wand and exclaim, ‘_Riddikulus’ _and focus on the fanged frisbee flying and then falling limply on the floor. I want you to think of that as hard as you can. If all goes well, the snake will form and then it will turn into a fanged frisbee and become still.

The class snickered a bit and Goyle’s ears burned red.

“If Goyle is successful, the Boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn.” said Professor Lupin. “I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of a thing that scares you the most and imagine how you might force it to look comical…”

The room went silent.

Draco wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it would take the form of. His father? The Dark Lord? A dementor? That bloody Hippogriff? He didn’t want his classmates to know about any of those things. His father always said that the more information others know; the better they can pick apart weaknesses.

“Everyone ready?” said Professor Lupin.

Draco inwardly gulped with fear. He wasn’t ready. He turned toward Potter who appeared to be quite peaked. _Apparently, he’s not ready either._ They locked eyes for a long moment, before Draco came to his senses and glanced away.

“Goyle, we’re going to back away and let you have a clear field, all right? I’ll call the next person forward. Everyone back, now, so Goyle can get a clear shot!

They all retreated against the walls, leaving Goyle alone beside the wardrobe. He sent it an oafish gaze as he held his wand ready.

“On the count of three,” said Professor Lupin, who was pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. “One—two—three—_now!”_

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin’s wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. A giant snake slithered out of the wardrobe. Goyle’s eyes widened into saucers but Draco thought the snake was beautiful. Its body was light brown with dark zigzag markings. It looked to be at least 75 centimeters long.

Goyle backed away, wand still up, wordlessly. Everyone knew better than to laugh at his anguish but they couldn’t help but stare at the lad who made a sport of pushing others around cower in such a way.

The room was silent for a long moment before a booming “_Riddikulus!” _rang out.

There was a noise like a snap and the snake turned into a green fanged frisbee and fell aimlessly at the ground, snapping at the air with its teeth rather helplessly.

There was a roar of laughter; the Boggart paused, confused, and Professor Lupin shouted, “Vincent Crabbe! Forward!”

Crabbe approached with trepidation. There was another snap and a furry werewolf appeared before him. His face turned sheet white at the sight of it. Draco inwardly shuddered. There was something familiar about the figure that he couldn’t quite place. It bared its teeth at them menacingly as it raised its dark claws, ready to slice through their flesh. _Hurry up, you git!_

“_Riddikulus!_” He finally exclaimed.

After a pop the werewolf was wearing a bonnet, a long white nightie and spectacles. She looked like a granny. Draco couldn’t fathom why he chose that of all things but he couldn’t help but laugh regardless.

“Millicent!” Lupin roared.

The large girl stepped forward, eyeing the grandmother werewolf expressionlessly. 

_Crack_! A figure with rotted flesh stood before them. Its saliva dripped from its mouth in a horribly unsanitary way. It crept forward slowly with a feverish look of hunger in its eyes. _A zombie._

“_Riddikulus_!” Millicent exclaimed.

The head fell off the body and the body shattered while the head bounced on the floor like a ball.

“Daphne!”

A woman stood alone in a white wedding dress with a veil over her face. Then slowly she brought her hand up to the veil and started to lift it up. Draco was able to partially see the face of an older woman. He could have sworn she looked familiar.

“_Riddikulus_!” She quickly shouted before anymore of the face was revealed. 

She dropped the veil from revealing the face and instead tripped over the tail of her dress and landed face first on the ground. Then, _crack_! It became a zombie again—_crack!—_turned into a bouncing head.

“It’s confused!” shouted Lupin. “We’re getting there!”

“Harry Potter!”

The class, who had been in stitches over the bouncing head, went quiet. Clearly the house outcast, Harry stepped up with determination. The Boggart transformed into a blurred faced man, in some sort of full body belt that didn’t allow it to break free despite its mad, erratic movements. 

Potter froze in fear. There were harsh whispers as everyone but Draco took an additional step back. He understood what it meant. He feared being driven to madness like his parents. 

“Draco! Help him out!” Lupin exclaimed as the insane person began to formulate words. He glanced at Lupin whose face had turned ghastly. _He knows too._

Draco pushed forward and stepped in front of Potter and it transformed into an older version of himself. It sent him the same withering look his father gave him. He started to lift his left sleeve—

“_Riddikulus!” _Draco squeaked out.

He dropped his sleeve and punched himself in the face and fell over. It wasn’t the most brilliant approach but it worked. He turned beet red as everyone laughed at him.

“Pansy!” Lupin moved on quickly.

The Boggart morphed into a fierce dragon whose hot, rancid breath smelled like rotten eggs.

“_Riddikulus_!” The dragon started to dance. _Crack! _It morphed into a zombie. _Crack! _It was a zombie head again. 

“Goyle! Step forward! Finish him off!” Lupin called out.

Goyle charged forward with more vigor than before. “_Riddikulus!”_

Momentarily the Boggart was a snake again before it fell to the ground as a helpless fanged frisbee on the floor. Goyle let out a triumphant, “Ha!” and it burst into tiny wisps it smoke and was gone. 

“Excellent!” Cried Professor Lupin as the class broke into applause. “Excellent, Goyle! Well done everyone! Five points to Slytherin for every person to tackle the boggart—ten for Goyle because he did it twice!”

Goyle beamed rather proudly. He rarely received praise from professors. 

“Great lesson, everyone! Homework kindly read the chapter about Boggarts and summarize it for me...to be handed next class! That will be all!”

Everyone talked excitedly as they left class, except of course Potter. Draco surreptitiously made his way over to him. He wanted to say something, anything to him. By the time he reached where he was walking; Potter was gone. _Figures._ Deep down, he wanted to talk to him about his Boggart too. He glanced at his other classmates a moment before turning away. _There’s no way they’d understand._

He had spent his entire childhood trying to be like his father but then he met bloody Harry Potter and befriended him only to not be allowed to see him. Then his father planted a diary on the Weasley girl and she opened the Chamber of Secrets and attacked the Mudbloods in the school, and one ended up with one dead. A follower of the Dark Lord escaped the prison and his father became gleeful. He knew he was supposed to be too but he just wasn’t. The meetings he overheard only made his stomach hurt and his heart race. It was one thing to agree with the Dark Lord’s belief system but another to be a follower like he feared his father was. 

Everyone, including his father, expected him to follow suit and it terrified him. _Obviously_. He thought dully. He just hoped no one else came to the same conclusion.


	5. The Grim.

As they made the long journey through the castle to North Tower, Neville pondered about the horrible start to the new school year. He had been looking forward to it after being grounded for the remainder of the summer. He endured constant lectures from his Gran, informing him how he had let her and his deceased parents down. He silently sobbed himself to sleep every night. 

His only solace was Harry. He often sneaked into his room with sweets or challenged him to a game of Exploding Snaps. Sometimes they just talked at length about anything and everything.

As they spoke sometimes their hands brushed lightly. Invisible sparks surged through the two of them. A few days before they left for the Hogwarts Express, it happened again. This time Harry grabbed his hands and held them in his. He could have sworn there was a wind that whisked through his hair. They stared at each other for a long moment before Neville abruptly let go.

“What was that?” He breathed out.

Harry shook his head in awe of it.

He grabbed his hands again and this time Neville didn’t pull away. The energy between them was like a building electric storm and the longer they stared into each other’s eyes with their hands touching the more turbulent it became. 

Harry had leaned forward with his eyes closed and then so did Neville and at that moment Sirius called out for dinner. They had been sitting there quietly for hours just allowing the energy to build.

_Was he going to snog me?_ He thought about it often even though neither of them brought it up again nor had they touched since. An invisible wall formed between them that he couldn’t begin to understand. Even when they hung out; they barely spoke. 

Sirius said he had to take care of something and would meet them at the castle. Neville was sort of excited that he and Lupin were coming—yet the fact that they were going to be watching them constantly filled him with a growing sense of dread. 

Especially after Lupin took him and Harry aside at the station. He said he wanted to speak to them after Neville said his goodbyes to Gran, who was being escorted home by Mad-Eye Moody.

“Neville, Harry,” said Lupin quietly, “come over here a moment.”

He jerked his head toward a pillar, and Neville followed him and Harry over. He tried not to think of what Gran had said before departing.

She put the fear of Merlin in him with various warnings about being a letdown. 

“Now, you two listen to me. I don’t want either of you to be afraid because we won’t let anything—”

“We aren’t afraid.” Harry interrupted.

“I’m sorry?” Lupin was glancing between them with a shocked expression.

“We aren’t afraid. Pettigrew can’t be worse than Voldemort, can he?”

Neville simply nodded in agreement.

Lupin winced slightly at the sound of the name but smiled, nonetheless. 

“I don’t doubt your bravery but I want you two to promise that—”

“We’ll be good boys and stay in the castle?” Harry spoke, a defiant look in his eyes.

“‘Not entirely.” said Lupin with a stern expression Neville had never seen before. “Both of you swear to me that you won’t go _looking _for Pettigrew.”

Harry and Neville exchanged looks and then gaped at Lupin.

“We have to go.” He said hurriedly as a loud whistle went off nearby. “Promise me. Both of you.”

“Why would we go looking for someone we know wants to kill us?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Promise me.” Lupin said fiercely.

“We promise!” Harry looked a bit frightened himself. 

“P-promise.” He echoed Harry.

Lupin visibly relaxed. “OK, let’s get on the train.” He said as if nothing had transpired.

Neville rushed ahead, glancing back only once and noticing that Harry had lagged behind with Lupin and were talking quietly among themselves. Lupin seemed truly proud of him and it showed. Neville turned away; shoulders slumped.

He was considerably close to crying until he met up with Hermione and Ron on the train. He was incredibly relieved to see friendly faces again. Especially after tripping over his own feet and falling on his face on the way in.

Harry sat down wordlessly across from him, unable to glance in his direction. If the other two noticed it they didn’t mention it. Hermione showed them her new cat. 

“You bought that horrible thing?” Ron exclaimed. 

“The shop owner said that nobody wanted him.” Hermione said, ignoring Ron. “But I could tell he’s the most intelligent cat in that shop.”

The cat’s ginger fur was thick and fluffy, but it was definitely a bit bowlegged and its face looked grumpy. It had a bottlebrush tail and large yellow eyes

“Aren’t you, Crookshanks?” She crooned.

“Looks like he ran headlong into a brick wall.” Ron whispered to Neville quietly. 

He would never admit it to Hermione but he agreed with Ron.

She continued to pet Crookshanks, who wore a rather smug expression.

Ron told them about how he let Ginny take Pig this year but it left him without a pet. 

“I was sad, of course, but it made Ginny really happy.” He explained.

Hermione finally sent a small smile his way.

Harry filled the others in on their summer. Neville nodded his head, pretending to listen. Harry had gotten to the part where they were grounded for the entire summer when Seamus showed up at their compartment.

He opened the door, “Hello.” Seamus said tentatively.

“Oh, bugger off, coward!” Bellowed Harry.

Ron smirked, “Yeah!”

Hermione and Neville exchanged disapproving looks and then turned back toward Seamus but he had already left. 

“That was rude. I know he had ditched us but—honestly. It was dangerous, what we were doing and he was afraid of being home-schooled!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Oh, who cares. We could have died. Bloody git deserves ridicule.” Harry spat.

Malfoy came down later but Neville’s mind was elsewhere. 

“There’s—got—to—-be—a—shortcut,” Ron panted as they climbed their seventh long staircase and emerged in an unfamiliar landing, where there was nothing but a large painting of a bare stretch of grass hanging on the stone wall. 

_Two years and we haven’t even begun to know the entire layout of the castle_. 

“I think it’s this way.” Hermione said as she peered down the passage to the right.

Her and Ron started arguing for the hundredth time so he tuned them out. His mind wandered from where Harry was to the train.

He could almost see the cloaked figure that stood in front of their compartment. It seemed to sense his gaze because the next thing he knew it drew in a long, slow, rattling breath. An intense cold swept over them all. It got caught up in his chest and sank deeper into his skin. It was deep within the confines of his heart.

His eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn’t see. He was drowning in the cold. There was a rush that felt like water poured into his ears. He was being dragged downward; the roaring grew louder even as he covered his ears.

Then, from far away, he heard screaming. Terrible, terrified, pleading screams. He wanted to run and help them yet he felt frozen in place. The thick fog was swallowing him. He choked on the air. He was certain he was dying as it swirled around inside of him…

“Neville? Neville?”

He opened his eyes. He was back on the North Tower. He stared at them blankly. He must have completely spaced out.

“Neville...are you alright?” Came Hermione’s soft voice. 

“I—I just.” He stumbled over his words. “I’m fine. Which way do we go?”

He knew the two of them were exchanging a private look or two but he didn’t care. He wasn’t about to admit that it was about the dementors. He didn’t want them to know that thinking about it affected him in such a way.

The rest of the journey was a blur. They finally emerged into the strangest looking classroom he had ever been in. In fact, it didn’t look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone’s attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. 

At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside of it, all surrounded by armchairs and dainty little pours. Everything was lit with a fun, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were drapes with dark red scarves. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. 

The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups.

Neville stared blankly around him, wondering where their Professor was.

A voice came out from the shadows. It had a soft, misty tone.

“Welcome.” It said. “How nice to see you in the physical world at last.”

As she revealed herself, Neville was reminded of a large, glittering insect. Professor Trelawney moved into the fire light. She was rather slender, and her large framed glasses magnified her eyes several times their normal size. She was draped in a gauzy sprinkled shawl and had innumerable chains and beads hanging around her spindly neck. Her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.

“Sit, my children, sit.” She said.

They climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank into poufs. Harry, Neville, Ron, and Hermione sat themselves around a table.

“Welcome to Divination,” said Professor Trelawney.

She seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire. 

“I am Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often in the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner eye.

“So, you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field...”

At these words, both Harry and Ron glanced, grinning, at Hermione, who looked startled at the news that books wouldn’t be much help in this subject.

“Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearances, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future,” Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face. “It is a Gift granted to few.

“We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear,” she shot suddenly at Parvati Patil, “beware a red-haired man.”

Parvati gave a startled look at Ron, who was right behind her and edged her chair away from him.

“In the second term,” Professor Trelawney went on, “we shall progress to the crystal ball—if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever.”

A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it.

“I wonder, dear,” she said to Lavender Brown, who was nearest and shrank back in her chair, “if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?”

Lavender, looking relieved, stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf, and put it down on the table in front of Professor Trelawney.

“Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading—it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October.”

Lavender trembled.

“Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of _Unfogging the Future_. I shall move among you, helping and instructing.” She paused and glanced directly at Neville. 

“Dear, after you’ve broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones? I’m rather attached to the pink ones.”

Sure enough, Neville had no sooner reached the shelf of teacups when there was a tinkle of breaking china. Professor Trelawney swept over to him holding a dustpan and brush and said, “One of the blue ones, then, dear, if you wouldn’t mind... thank you...”

Neville sat down miserably. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Hermione whispered with a sympathetic glance. “This class is absurd.” She added with furrowed brows. 

Neville managed to smile slightly. He glanced over at Harry and Ron next to them.

“....you’re going to suffer but be happy about it.” Harry was saying with a slanted smirk.

“You need your Inner Eye tested, if you ask me.” Ron retorted.

“You’ve never heard the horrible Muggle music he listens to!” Neville chimed in. 

Hermione appeared to be absolutely appalled when Harry flipped them both off. The three boys struggled to stifle their laughs as Professor Trelawney gazed in their direction.

“Let me see.” She said as she glanced into Neville’s cup carefully.

“There’s a strange blob shaped like a bowler hat.” She squinted slightly. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake. I don’t know.” She irritably stated.

She tried to turn the teacup the other way.

“But this way it looks more like an acorn.” She glanced over at her copy of _Unfogging the Future_. It says it means there’s a windfall, and unexpected gold.” She rolled her eyes again. “This here,” she turned the cup again. “Looks like some sort of animal. A hippo...or a sheep?” She let out a haughty huff. “This is pointless…”

Professor Trelawney must have overheard because she was already sweeping over to take the cup from Hermione.

“Let me see that, my dear,” she said scathingly to Hermione.

Everyone turned to watch. Professor Trelawney was staring into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise.

“The falcon... my dear, Neville has a deadly enemy.” 

“But everyone knows that,” said Hermione in a loud whisper.

Professor Trelawney stared at her. “Well, they do,” said Hermione. “Everybody knows about Neville and You-Know-Who.”

Harry, Ron, and Neville stared at her with a mixture of amazement and admiration. They had never heard Hermione speak to a teacher like that before. Professor Trelawney chose not to reply. She lowered her huge eyes to the cup again and continued to turn it.

“The club... an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup. The skull... danger in your path, my dear...”

Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gave Neville’s cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed.

Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed.

“My dear boy—-my poor dear boy—-no —it is kinder not to say —no don’t ask me...”

“What is it, Professor?” said Dean Thomas at once. 

Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around their table pressing close to Professor Trelawney’s chair to get a good look at Neville’s cup. All he wanted to do was disappear. 

“My dear,” Professor Trelawney’s huge eyes opened dramatically, “you have the Grim.”

“The what?” Piped up Harry. “Oi back it up, you lot!” 

Rather put off and intimidated at once they at last gave Neville some breathing room. 

Neville was thankful Harry had said something. He knew he would not have. Many gawked at him in bewilderment. Dean Thomas shrugged at him and Lavender Brown looked puzzled. Nearly everybody else clapped their hands over their mouths in horror.

“The Grim, my dear, the Grim!” cried Professor Trelawney, who looked shocked that so many hadn’t understood. “The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen! The worst omen—of death!”

Neville’s stomach lurched. He had seen a big black dog after they had blown up those Muggles.

Everyone was looking at Neville, except for Hermione, who had gotten up and moved around to the back of Professor Trelawney’s chair.

“I don’t think it looks like a Grim,” she said flatly.

Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with mounting dislike.

“You’ll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future.”

Seamus Finnigan was tilting his head from side to side.

“It looks like a Grim if you do this,” he said, with his eyes almost shut, “but it looks more like a donkey from here,” he said, leaning to the left.

Neville’s hands curled into angry, affronted fists. “When you’ve all finished deciding whether I’m going to die or not!” Neville exclaimed, taking even himself by surprise. Now nobody seemed to want to look at him.

“I think we will leave the lesson here for today,” said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest voice. “Yes... please pack away your things...”

Silently the class took their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, packed away their books, and closed their bags. Even Harry was avoiding Neville’s gaze. After all, he had been there. He saw it too.

“Until we meet again,” said Professor Trelawney faintly, “fair fortune be yours. Oh, and dear,” — she pointed at Neville, “you’ll be late next time, so mind you work extra-hard to catch up.”

Neville, Harry, Ron, and Hermione descended Professor Trelawney’s ladder and the winding stairs in silence. Harry branched off to his next class, leaving the three of them to the difficult task of finding Transfiguration.

By the time they found it, they were just in time. It was nearly impossible for Neville to pay attention to the class about Animagi (wizards who could transform at will into animals) and transformed herself into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.

“Really, what has gotten into you all today?” said Professor McGonagall.

She returned to her human form with a pop. “Not that it matters but that’s the first time my Transfiguration has not got applause from a class.”

Neville’s mind was already wandering to the big black dog he saw before the Knight Bus had pulled up. He had seen it again at the station before boarding. He remembered now, that was why he fell on the steps.

He thought of the dementors that were guarding the entrances of Hogwarts and the presence of Sirius Black up at the staff table with Professor Lupin. Everyone was trying to guard him but if the black dog was the Grim; it wouldn’t matter in the end. He paled, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He found it difficult to breath. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on what McGonagall was saying.

“…most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have little patience with it.”

His mind went back to the vision of the dog, trying to remember every feature, both times. _Could it really be the Grim? Is it predicting an untimely death by Pettigrew, after all?_

“You look in excellent health, Longbottom so you will excuse me if I don’t let you off homework today. I assure you if you die you needn’t turn it in.”

It took him a moment to take it all in. He finally managed to smile. _Maybe it was just a stray following me about._ He urged himself to believe it.

There wasn’t much talking at lunch time. He admittedly wasn’t paying much heed to the conversations around him. Despite Professor McGonagall’s words; everyone was still going on about Divination.

“What about Neville’s teacup?” Ron pointed out.

“Coincidence.” Hermione insisted firmly.

Ron spooned stew onto his plate and picked up his fork but didn’t start eating.

“Neville,” he said in a low, serious voice, “you _haven’t _seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?”

“Yes, I have.” Neville mournfully stated. “Once the day Harry and I blew up those Muggles…” _Harry had told the story in such a comical way. _He cleared his throat, “Then again when we were loading onto the train…” he trailed off.

Ron’s fork fell with a clatter.

“It was probably a stray.” Hermione stated, mirroring his thoughts from earlier.

“Yes. Of course.” He muttered and drowned them out again as they argued.

“There was nothing woolly about the Grim in that cup!” Ron yelled, dragging Neville back to the present. Professor Trelawney said you didn’t have the right aura. You just don’t like being bad at something for a change!”

He had touched a nerve. Hermione slammed her textbook on the table so hard bits of more meat and carrot flew everywhere.

“If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I’m not sure I’ll be studying it much longer! It’s utter rubbish!”

She snatched her bag and stalked away.

Ron and Hermione were still not speaking as they made their way down to Care of Magical Creatures class.

As it turned out; the spat was the least of their problems after Malfoy was bit by the Hippogriff. It didn’t bode well for Hagrid. Even after they consoled him; Hagrid was certain that his time as a professor was numbered.

He certainly had a reason to worry. Malfoy milked his injury for all it was worth, much to their dismay. 

The rest of the week was long. Between Malfoy and Professor Snape finding new and interesting ways to torment them, Professor Lupin not allowing him to fight the Boggart and opting to jump in front of it himself, he was relieved when they finished their last class on Friday afternoon.

That evening, he and Ron were playing Wizard’s chess while Hermione read a book quietly in one of armchairs by the fire. Neville did a double take as a rat appeared on the board. 

“What…” Neville scooted back, his eyes widening.

Ron, however smiled broadly. “A rat!” He exclaimed. “Aw, look, Neville, he’s saying hello!”

“Erm…” 

“A rat? Where? Crookshanks!” Hermione called out.

Ron immediately picked up the rat and pulled it close to him. “Don’t you dare touch this rat!”

Crookshanks sauntered from the pillow she was resting on and hissed at it.

“You keep that thing away from him!”

“Him?! It is a rat. A filthy, disgusting rodent!” Hermione bellowed.

Neville’s gaze moved between the two of them like it was a Quidditch match.

“He is not! Take it back!” Ron yelled out.

“He is!” 

Crookshanks at this point, tried to pounce on Ron to get to the rat. He curled him the rat against him protectively.

“You keep away from Scabbers!” Ron cried.

“You _named_ it?”

“Of course, I did!”

“Would you two stop it?” Neville didn’t remember when he stood to his feet. “Shut it, both of you! Ron, I haven’t a clue why you want a rat as a pet but both of us have to respect that. That means, Hermione, keeping your cat off of him! Now, I’m going to bed because you two are giving me a bloody headache!” 

With that he stomped up to his dormitory. The silence that rang in his absence spoke volumes.

“Hangin’ round Harry too much.” He thought he heard, finally. He found himself smiling. _Maybe that’s not so bad._ The near snog barged into his mind and never left, even as he closed his eyes to sleep.


	6. So quick bright things come to confusion.

Classes over the next few weeks remained burdensome. While most of the others enjoyed Defense Against the Dark Arts, favouring it because of Professor Lupin, Neville remained unenthusiastic. Perhaps it was because of the auspicious start that tainted his experience. He was beginning to think that Lupin hadn’t allowed him to fight the Boggart because he didn’t believe he was capable. Everyone insisted on treating him with kid gloves despite what he had done.

Potions was a disaster as always and he loathed the stifling Divination classroom. Professor Trelawney’s bug-like eyes filled with tears every time she saw him and quite a few of his classmates spoke in hushed voices around him as though he was on his deathbed. He tried to ignore it but found it to be nearly impossible.

Nobody liked Care of Magical Creatures. After the first action-packed lesson, it had become extremely dull. Hagrid seemed to have lost his confidence. They now spent lesson after lesson learning how to look after flobberworms. He supposed it was better than dealing with another creature that risked Hagrid’s job.

Worse yet was that since Quidditch season began he saw less of Harry despite his growing distance. Neville had a sinking feeling that he regretted their near snog over the summer. He dealt with it in silence as he barely scraped by without ending up in the hospital ward. With everything on his mind and his increasing dread of the Hogsmeade weekend he had to miss out on; he was clumsier than ever.

Irritatingly enough, Hermione seemed to think it was all for the best given that Pettigrew was after him. Neville shrank into himself, causing Ron to cast her a rather dirty look despite. 

“There’s always the feast.” Ron reassured him. 

“Yeah!” Hermione said, sending Ron a meaningful glance. They had recently made up.

“Yeah. Great.” Neville said gloomily.

Knowing that Harry couldn’t go either would have been reassuring if it wasn’t for the fact that he was actively avoiding him.

Hermione and Ron made the mistake of asking about it once. He turned bright red and sputtered out he was just busy. He supposed she was so taken aback by his reaction; she didn’t dare to ask again.

Shortly before Halloween; dean Thomas, who was good with a quill, offered to forge his Gran’s signature. Neville reminded him that Lupin and Sirius would be alerted immediately.

On Halloween morning, Neville awoke, dreading the day instead of being excited like everyone else. Percy had loudly stated the prior night that Hogsmeade was “no big deal” much to the dismay of their fellow classmates. Penelope’s death had caused him to be more serious-minded, which he hadn’t previously thought possible. Ron remarked that Percy was “allergic to fun”, which warranted a stern look from Hermione.

As they ate breakfast, Neville picked at his food, trying to appear normal despite his lingering depression.

“We’ll bring you lots of sweets back from Honeydukes.” said Hermione, with a sympathetic glance.

“Yeah, loads.” said Ron.

“Don’t worry about me.” Neville reassured them. “I’ll see you at the feast.”

He accompanied them to the entrance hall, where Filch, the caretaker, was standing inside the front doors, checking off names against a long list, peering suspiciously into every face, and making sure that no one was sneaking out. 

Harry was there too, lingering about nearby. Neville was surprised he wasn’t trying to sneak out using his invisibility cloak. When Ron said as such out loud, Hermione reminded them that the dementors could see through invisibility cloaks.

“Staying here, are you, Longbottom?” shouted Malfoy as he stood in line with Crabbe and Goyle. “Scared of passing the dementors?”

“Oh, sod off, Malfoy!” Harry spoke up, when it was clear that Neville was not going to retaliate.

“Oooh, fancy a date with Longbottom, then?” Malfoy mocked, though his expression appeared rage-filled rather than teasing. 

“No.” Harry turned around and headed away.

Neville and Malfoy gaped at him for a moment.

“Yes. Even if he was bent, he could do much better than you.” Malfoy said in a lower tone. 

Neville’s face turned red hot. He was tempted to pull out his wand but managed to resist and walk away without another word.

He didn’t fancy returning to his common room, nor did he want to be in the stuffy library. He wandered the corridors rather aimlessly.

“Neville?” A familiar voice called out suddenly. 

He was tempted to rush off but instead he stopped and turned, greeting Lupin and Sirius in the corridor by Lupin's office.

“What are you doing? Where’s Harry?” Lupin asked.

Neville shrugged his shoulders slightly in an attempt to look nonchalant.

“What about Ron and Hermione?” Sirius piped up.

“Hogsmeade.” He said in an attempt to sound casual.

“Ah. Why not come in? We were just opening a delivery for a grindylow for our next lesson.” Lupin said.

“A what?” 

He followed them into Lupin’s office. In the corner stood a large tank with a sickly green creature with sharp little horns. Its face pressed against the glass, pulling faces and flexing its long, spindly fingers.

“Water demon, said Lupin, surveying the grindylow thoughtfully. “We shouldn’t have much difficulty with him, not after the kappas. The trick is to break its grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but brittle.”

The grindylow bared its green teeth and then buried itself in a tangle of weeds in a corner.

“Tea?” He offered. Sirius had already handed Lupin a steaming cup.

“No thanks.” Neville said quietly.

“Suppose you’ve had enough teabags lately?” Lupin suggested. “Sit.” He gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

“How did you know about that?” Neville asked incredulously.

“Professor McGonagall told me.” He said with a glint in his eyes. “You aren’t worried, are you?”

He considered telling them about the big black dog he and Harry had seen but decided against it. He didn’t want them to think he was a coward. Especially Lupin, who didn’t seem to think he could cope with a boggart.

Lupin studied him closely. “Something bothering you?” He asked.

He opened his mouth to say no but then shut his mouth again. “Yes.” He said after a moment.

Sirius and Lupin exchanged a glance the way he and Harry used to and his heart panged painfully. He told himself that there were more important issues at hand.

“Why did you stop me from taking a turn that day we did Boggarts in class?” He asked finally.

“Well,” said Lupin, frowning slightly, “I assumed if the Boggart faced you, it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort.

Neville stared at him incredulously for a moment. _He said his name._ Not many dared to do so, after all. “I wasn’t thinking of him. Well, I did at first but then I thought of the dementors.”

“I see.” said Lupin. “That’s impressive, Neville.” He smiled at the look of surprise on Neville’s face. “That suggests that what you fear the most is fear. Very wise.”

Neville didn’t know how to respond to that so he remained quiet.

“So, you’ve been thinking I didn’t think you were capable of fighting the Boggart?” Lupin asked.

“Well, yeah. It’s not like others believe I can do anything either. Believe it has been luck I’ve made it this far. Or maybe Harry Potter.”

Lupin and Sirius looked at each other and frowned. “That is so far from the truth—” Lupin started.

He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in.” Called Lupin.

The door opened and in came Snape. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Neville, his dark eyes narrowing.

“Ah, Severus,” said Lupin with a smile. “Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on my desk for me?”

Sirius, on the other hand, didn’t hide his disdain for Snape.

Snape glared back at him. Lupin ignored them both.

“I was just showing Neville my grindylow.” Lupin said.

“Fascinating.” Snape drawled out. “You should drink that directly, Lupin. I made an entire couldronful, if you need it.”

“I will and thank you.” He said to him with a genuine smile.

“Not at all.” Snape said with a look that Neville didn’t like. He backed out of the room, unsmiling and watchful.

Neville sent a curious glance toward the goblet. Lupin smiled.

“Professor Snape has kindly concocted a Potion for me.” He said. “I have never been much of a Potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex.” He picked up the goblet and sniffed it. “Pity sugar makes it useless.” he added, taking a sip and shuddering.

“Why—-?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Just a bit off-colour.” He said simply as he picked it up and took a drink of it. “Disgusting.” He wrinkled his nose. “We are lucky Professor Snape is up to making it. Not many wizards are.” 

Neville opened his mouth but Sirius s sent Neville a scrutinizing look that discouraged him from continuing the conversation. 

“Well, we’ve better get back to work. We will see you at feast time.” Lupin said.

Neville was still thinking about the goblet of potion when he left. _Would Snape poison him? What was with his expression. _He wrote it off. There was no reason to suspect him of anything but being unpleasant.

“There you go! As much as we could carry!” Ron said once they returned.

A shower of brilliantly coloured sweets fell into Neville’s lap. It was dusk, and Ron and Hermione had just turned up in the common room, pink-faced from the cold wind and looking like they had the time of their lives.

“Thanks!” said Neville as he picked up a packet of tiny black Pepper Imps. “What’s Hogsmeade like? Where did you go?”

By the sound of it—everywhere. Dervish and Banges, the wizarding equipment shop, Zonko’s Joke Shop, Three Broomsticks for foaming mugs of hot butterbeer, and many others.

He nodded as they went on about it, his mind continuously returning to his conversation with Lupin and Sirius. He considered telling them when they finally asked what he did but decided not to. The last thing he wanted to discuss was the dementors and Ron would only insist Snape was up to something if he mentioned the Potion.

They were soon distracted by the feast. The Great Hall was decorated with hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats, and flaming orange streamers swimming lazily across the stormy ceiling like brilliant water snakes.

The food was delicious as always. After he had his fill of everything at the table, he glanced up at the staff table at Sirius and Lupin. He wondered how they knew they were bent and if he himself was. Unlike the day at Platform 9 ¾, they were not open about their relationship. He wondered if they feared getting fired. _Is that something that could occur? Could Dumbledore be so short-sighted or cruel? _The rumours flew around among the students but nothing was taken seriously. The majority didn’t know that Harry lived with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, let alone that Neville had moved in. They were careful to keep his place of residence a secret and he suspected it was the same with Harry.

He paused a moment when he noticed Snape watching them as well. He didn’t appear scornful, however, merely attentive. Neville frowned as he glanced away, a tight feeling forming in his chest. 

He soon forgot about it as the Hogwarts ghosts performed after the feast. They popped in and out of the walls and tables to do a bit of formation gliding. Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had a great success with a re-enactment if his own botched beheading.

It had been such a pleasant evening, not even Malfoy shouting, “The dementors send their love!” could spoil it as they exited the hall. _Not a bad day at all. _He had thought.

Until they entered the Gryffindor common room. Students stopped one by one in the center of the room. Once Neville, Ron, and Hermione came in, laughing gaily at the house ghost’s antics, everyone turned and stared at them, mouths gaping in horror. The trio exchanged nervous glances as the other students parted the way so they could get to what they were looking at. Neville had a sinking feeling it had everything to do with them. 

As they moved closer to the front of the crowd, Neville could have sworn he saw brown and red. 

Then he saw it. A lifeless rat laid helplessly on the ground covered in blood. There were traces of cat hair around it. 

“Scabbers!” Ron ran to the rat immediately and crouched down beside him, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Please be alive. Please be alive!” He cried out.

Murmuring broke out among the rest of them.

“Look...bits of cat hair.” Seamus whispered from behind Neville.

“...rats are disgusting anyway...” He caught Lavender saying from a distance away.

“Poor creature. Hadn’t stood a chance.” Colin Creevey said sadly.

Ron let out an outcry and pointed accusingly at the the cat’s distinctly ginger hair. He was still holding the deceased rat to his chest as he turned toward Hermione, who went as pale as a ghost. 

“_You_! You and your bloody cat! Now it’s killed him! It’s killed my pet! Why when I get my hands on it—”

“Don’t you touch him! Crookshanks doesn’t know better! He doesn’t _realize _Scabbers is your pet!” There were tears in Hermione’s eyes.

“_Was. _Thanks to your _monster_ of a cat!” He retorted, his face was tomato red. “I will never forgive you for this, Hermione Granger. You or your bloody _pet_.” He spat out the last word.

Neville had a terrible, sinking feeling that Ron meant it, too. He wasn’t particularly fond of Scabbers but he felt awful that this had occurred. He wished Hermione had apologized or said anything to rectify the situation but she didn’t. 

“Well? Move on you lot! Nothing to see here!” Ron barked at everyone. 

Everyone cleared out quickly. 

Hermione glances between him and Ron and then stormed off. Neville suspected she had expected him to come to her aid but he didn’t see how he could. It wasn’t Ron’s fault that Hermione’s cat had killed Scabbers.

He, Seamus, Dean, and Liam gave Ron their treats from Hogsmeade to comfort him. They all went to bed with a sour taste in their mouth.

The weather took a turn for the worse as the first Quidditch match drew nearer. Ron and Hermione still weren’t on speaking terms, which meant Neville was split between hanging with them. It was an exhausting endeavor that he quickly grew tired of.

The fact that Slytherin, who was supposed to play Gryffindor, backed out at the last-minute spread across the castle.

“Flint’s excuse is that their Seeker’s arm’s still injured.” Lee Jordan informed them in the Common Room a few days before the match. 

“Obviously an excuse not to play us in potentially bad weather. Think it will damage their chances.” Fred Weasley cut in.

There had been strong winds and heavy rain all day, and as Fred spoke, they heard a distant rumble of thunder.

“There’s nothing wrong with his arm! He’s obviously faking it!” Ron exclaimed angrily.

“No proof, though.” George bitterly stated. “We are playing Hufflepuff instead.”

“And they’ve got a different style than we’ve been practicing. They’ve got a new Captain and seeker—Cedric Diggory.”

“The tall and handsome one!” Katie Bell stated as she and Angelina Johnson approached the growing group of Gryffindors in the common room.

“Strong and silent!” Angelina added, and they both started to giggle.

“He’s only silent because he’s too thick to string two words together,” said Fred impatiently. “I’m not too worried. Hufflepuffs are pushovers.” 

“We were playing in very different conditions!” Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Captain and Keeper cut in. “Diggory’s put in a very strong side together and is an excellent Seeker!”

Neville tuned out the rest of them and headed off to the dormitory. Seamus must have followed him up because when he turned, he was standing there with a rather sheepish expression.

Neville narrowed his eyes at him. He hadn’t quite forgiven him for ditching them the prior year.

“Look. Please. Listen to me, mate.” Seamus pleaded.

Neville realized then that he had walked from a heated Quidditch debate to speak to him. 

“OK.” He said finally. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It was me mam and Dean—-he said—well not trying to make excuses. I mean, it’s sort of twisted that we are the ones to battle these things, though.”

Neville gritted his teeth. “I’m the one that battles Voldemort—stop wincing at his name! Honestly. No idea how you got in Gryffindor!”

Seamus appeared so taken aback, Neville instantly felt guilty. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just—you ditched us and we needed you.”

“Yeah. I know. I just I was—” Seamus faltered. “Stupid. Bloody stupid. I made a right holy show of things.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Now Pettigrew is after you...mate, I can’t imagine what that’s like. I’m sorry and I won’t ditch you again. I am not a coward. I swear it.” 

There was something in his gaze that told Neville that there was more to the story but holding a grudge made him as bad as Ron and Hermione.

“You’re forgiven, mate.” Neville said finally.

He beamed at him. “Aces!” He exclaimed loudly. 

Neville chuckled. He had missed him.

“Aye, speaking of friends, where’s Ron and Hermione?” Seamus asked.

“Oh, I suspect Hermione is in the library and Ron is off sulking somewhere.”

Seamus’ eyes widened as Neville explained how the incident with Scabbers and Crookshanks was the catalyst of their friendship and Neville was simply tired of listening to it.

“Can’t blame you, mate. Hey, come sit with us at the Quidditch match on Saturday!” 

Neville had no desire to sit out in the cold, windy and rainy weather but Seamus seemed so enthusiastic that he found himself agreeing to it after all.

The day before the match, the winds reached howling point and the rain fell harder than ever. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns were lit. The Slytherin team was looking rather smug indeed, and none more so than Malfoy.

“Ah, if only my arm was feeling a bit better!” Draco sighed dramatically, smirking as the gale pounded on the windows.

On the day of the match, the noise of the storm was louder than ever. He thought that perhaps the match would be cancelled but it wasn’t. 

Seamus pointed out Cedric Diggory to him in the corridor. He was a fifth year and broad shouldered. He wasn’t actually sure who the Gryffindor Seeker was but he didn’t want to admit that to Seamus. 

Neville had to admit that Angelina and Katie had a point. Cedric was a tall and extremely handsome young man with chiseled features, dark hair and bright grey eyes. 

“Usually Seekers are small and light but Cedric is rather burly, isn’t he? Well he probably won’t be easily knocked off his broom in this storm, will he?” Seamus was saying. Neville nodded, barely listening as he observed the other lad.

Neville wished he hadn’t agreed to attend the match. There was a ferocious wind that was strong enough to whip out of their hands as they went. 

Battling to keep from toppling over as he reached the stands; he went to sit by Seamus, Dean, Parvati, Padma, an unfamiliar girl on the stands.

She had straggly, waist length, dirty blond hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant light blue eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look. She wore a rather odd necklace of butterbeer caps.

“Hello, I’m Luna Lovegood.” She said in a rather dreamy voice that carried through the air like wind. “I’m a Ravenclaw but I am hoping Gryffindor wins.”

“Hi, I’m Neville Longbottom.” He spoke over the wind and rain, perking a brow at her wand that was stowed behind her ear.

She smiled at him. “Yes, I know who you are.”

“I haven’t seen you about.” He remarked, eyeing her curiously.

“I’m good friends with Ginny. She couldn’t come out to watch the game. I think it’s the Wrackspurts. She has been full of them since the start of the school year.”

Neville nodded even though he hadn’t a clue what she was on about. It was the closest to news he had gotten about Ginny. Ron never talked about it and the one time he tried he said she was fine and quickly changed the subject.

“Saved Luna from Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle picking on her.” Seamus whispered in his ear.

Neville frowned slightly. The wind had picked up so the rest of the conversation was lost to him. He did notice that Seamus seemed to pay an awful lot of attention to Dean. He wasn’t sure if it was admiration or something else. He remembered what Seamus’ mam had said last year about how being bent was wrong. Not to mention the way he reacted to the conversation in general. _No bloody way._ It was probably good because Dean was not only oblivious but seemed to fancy Padma. _What was that quote by that Muggle who write the play, "A Midsummer Night’s Dream", that Harry was on about?”_

“So quick bright things come to confusion.” He quoted in a low mutter. “Shakespeare!” He exclaimed loudly but luckily it was quickly drowned out by the roaring wind.

They cheered as the Gryffindors entered the field. The Hufflepuffs approached from the opposite side of the field, wearing canary-yellow robes. The captains shook hands and soon they were off. It was nearly impossible to see what was going on the field. He tried to glance at the scoreboard but even that was drowned out by the downpour.

Then, something odd caught the side of his eye. He turned; his gaze fixated on the fields as a flash of lightning illuminated it. To his horror, he saw a silhouette of an enormous shaggy black dog, clearly imprinted against the sky, motionless on the other side of the stadium. He squinted in an attempt to see it better but it had already vanished. He closed his eyes, telling himself it was a combination of nerves, a trick of light and shadows.

It was that moment that an eerie silence fell across the stadium. The wind, though strong as ever, was forgetting to roar. It was as though the sound was turned off. _What’s going on?_

Then a horrible familiar wave of cold swept over him. It reached into the deep, dark depths inside of him. He glanced up and spotted at least a hundred dementors rushing toward him as though drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He felt as though water was turning to ice in his chest, and the sharp edges were cutting into him. He glanced around him at those nearby, their pale faces like blurs beside him. 

He tripped over something as he hurried to the ground from the stands. The dementors changed directions, soaring right toward him. _At least everyone else is safe_. Then he heard it again, the sound of the shrill screams silenced his mind. It was a woman…

“_Not Neville. Take me instead! Let my son live!”_

_“Stand aside, silly girl, or feel my wrath.”_

_“No, no, please! Kill me! Kill me! Leave the boy!”_

Numbing, swirling white mist filled his mind. _Why am I on the ground? I have to help her! I have to!_ He tried to get up, but the heaviness of the ice seemed to have spread from his chest to the rest of his body. He was a weighted block from head to toe.

“_Please! Have mercy! Have mercy! I am more than willing to die so that he may live! He is but a child!”_

Tears welled up in his eyes. _She’s going to die! I have to get up and help her! _

A shrill voice laughed as the woman screamed. Then he soared into the ominous green lit sky as the woman lay motionless on the ground and Neville knew no more.

“A right chancer it was, running away like that.”

“He was trying to protect us.”

“Bloody mad!”

“Thought for sure they gave him the dementor’s kiss.”

Neville heard the voices but he couldn’t differentiate them, let alone understand what they were going on about. He didn’t have a clue where he was, how he’d got there, or what he’d been doing before then. All he knew was that every inch of him felt like it was on fire and there was an ache that seemed to be embedded in every bone of his body. He didn’t remember falling or fighting anything yet the soreness of his body and heavy exhaustion said otherwise.

“That was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

_Scariest...the scariest...hooded figures...cold...screaming…_

Neville’s eyes snapped open. He was lying in the hospital wing. He was surrounded by Seamus, Dean, Padma, Parvati, Luna, and even Hermione and Ron showed up. He turned his head and closest to him stood Harry. 

“Scared the shit out of us.” Harry said to him. He was soaking wet and his unruly hair seemed to stand on end.

“Sorry…” Neville croaked out.

How are you feeling?” Seamus asked, appearing paler than usual.

Flashes returned to him in quick bursts. The Grim...dementors...the ground...the screams...

Fred and George came up before he could find his voice again. “We saw you out there! Bloody madness!” George exclaimed.

“What happened?” Neville asked finally.

“Dementors attacked you. It looked like you tried to get away from the crowd. They swooped around you but Dumbledore, Lupin and Sirius cast these brilliant—what did he call them? Patronus’! I hope Lupin teaches us how to do that! It’s the only thing that fights off the buggers.” Fred explained.

Something occurred to Neville suddenly as Fred, who he knew was a Gryffindor Beater, explained it with such detail. “Did we win?”

There was a grave silence for a moment. 

“We didn’t _lose_, did we?”

“Diggory got the Snitch.” George said. “Just after you hit the ground. He didn’t realize what had happened. When he looked back and saw you on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a rematch. But they won fair and square...even Wood admits it.”

Neville groaned. _He must be furious I ruined the game._

“Oh, come off it, Neville. You couldn’t help it.” Harry said to him.

Neville lay there, silent in his remorse. He wasn’t that into Quidditch but he knew how much it meant to many people, especially the players.

After ten minutes or so, Madam Pomfrey limited the visitors to three. Everyone but Seamus, Hermione, Ron, and Harry left. Madam Pomfrey glared at them but they were so stubborn she finally gave up and let all four of them stay. 

Ron, Hermione, and Seamus moved closer to the bed.

“Dumbledore was rather angry.” said Hermione in a quaking voice. “I’ve never seen him like that before. He, Sirius and Lupin ran onto the field as you fell and cast Patronus’ at them. They left the stadium right away. He was furious they’d come on the grounds. We heard him—”

“Then he magicked you onto a stretcher and walked up to school with you on it. Everyone thought you were…” Ron’s voice faded but Neville barely noticed. 

He was thinking about what the dementors had done to him. _And the screaming_. He inwardly shuddered. Then he felt familiar sparks run through him. He glanced at Harry who had put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Neville smiled and then fell asleep, his body somehow bursting with waves of comfort.


	7. The unforgivable storm.

On the day after Halloween, the corridors were full of students talking about Weasel’s moronic rat. He couldn’t fathom why anyone would keep such filthy vermin as a pet. He had thought that even a blood traitor like Weasel could sink no lower. He was glad that Granger’s cat had gotten rid of it. The thought of it scurrying about disgusted him. 

He was thankful to be distracted by his classes and the upcoming match of Quidditch. One look at the weather and his stomach clenched up. It had significantly worsened. The winds had reached howling point and the rain fell harder than ever. It was dark enough that extra lanterns and candles were lit.

That afternoon, after a particularly brutal Quidditch practice, Marcus, the Quidditch team Captain, took Draco aside.

“You’re going to say your arm hurts too much to play.” He demanded. 

“What? I—why? I can do better. It’s not my fault I can’t see a bloody thing.” Draco retorted.

“That’s it, isn’t it? No one can. Even Potter can’t find the Snitch. I want to win that cup so you are going to say you can’t play because of your arm.”

Marcus glowered at him angrily as Draco considered his words. Going against him would unleash Marcus’ wrath but going with it could make him appear weak. _Unless I make it seem like it’s all good part of my scheme to get Hagrid fired since it would help my case. Me mauled by a horrific beast now affects the entire Slytherin Quidditch team. It’s bloody perfect._

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” Draco said with a sly smirk.

Marcus sneered. “Glad you could see it my way. Less painful this way, I reckon.”

Draco smirked and sauntered off the field. _Let him think he made me. _He thought smugly. 

He sent an owl to his father relaying his plan to play out his injury so that Slytherin did not play to further stack evidence against Hagrid’s endangerment while teaching. He conveniently left off the weather and the deal made with Marcus. His father wrote a short reply in return.

_We can use this to our advantage. Keep your nose clean._

Sure enough, Gryffindor was set to play Hufflepuff instead.

He was free to better focus on his studies. Defense Against the Dark Arts, in particular, took an interesting turn. When he arrived in the classroom, it was far darker than it normally was. He sat down in a seat next to Pansy and waited for the lesson to begin.

Snape strode into the front of the class. Pansy and Draco exchanged confused glances. 

“I am filling in for Professor Lupin since he is not up for the task today.” Snape was in a terrible mood.

Draco glanced around, frowning when he didn’t see Potter anywhere. _We haven’t been practicing hard because of the weather. What is keeping him?_

Overcome with worry, Draco couldn’t focus on anything Snape said. 

Draco let out a sigh of relief when Potter finally arrived ten minutes later. 

“Sorry I’m late, Professor Lupin…” He trailed off, his eyes widening in surprise.

“This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter. I suppose we will have to take ten points from Slytherin, won’t we?” Snape hissed.

The class remained silent but as he glanced around, he could see the icy glares aimed toward Potter.

Potter didn’t budge from his spot.

“Where’s Professor Lupin?” he asked.

Draco groaned. _Why does he always defy him?_

Snape’s dark eyes glittered.

“Just like I told Longbottom earlier today, nothing life-threatening,” he said, looking as though he wished it were. “Sit. Down. Potter.” Snape spat out.

Potter walked slowly to his seat and sat down. Snape looked around at the class.

“As I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin did not leave any record of the topics you have covered. The Gryffindors verbally tried to share his lesson plan with me. Apparently, they favor him.” He sneered.

Draco’s head quickly turned to Potter, frowning when he saw that his hands were clenched tightly into a fist.

“Be that as it may, we will be covering Werewolves today—”

“Excuse me, first off, Lupin is the best Defense Against the Dark Arts we’ve had and second of all, we were going to cover hinky-punks next.” Potter interrupted without raising his hand.

“Silence! Like I told the Gryffindors, I did not ask for opinions nor did I request to know what you were studying. I was merely commenting on his disorganization.” Snape’s voice boomed through the class.

Potter glared at him as the rest of the class remained quiet. 

“Now. As told to Granger, I _hardly_ find the hinky-punks to be a subject for third years. Clearly, Lupin is not overtaxing you. So, open your books to 394 so that we can study Werewolves.” Snape said in an agitated tone.

Draco glanced at Potter again, who appeared to be on the brink of losing his cool. When he finally met his gaze; Draco glanced away quickly.

“Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and true wolf?” Snape said.

No one spoke up.

“Anyone?” Snape said. “I see. It has become apparent to me that Lupin not taught you the distinction to you either. I had been hoping that perhaps he saw that you were far more advanced than Gryffindors but apparently—-”

“Excuse me. I don’t think it’s appropriate to bash another house in front of other houses. Seems to promote favouritism, don’t you think?” Potter piped up in an irritating way that Draco _hated_.

Snape’s gaze shot daggers at him. “Think so, do you? Well you just cost your own house twenty more points, Potter. Keep pressing and it will be fifty.”

Everyone was silent for the rest of the class.

“You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject and I want it by your next lesson. While I’m your professor, you will not fall behind, no matter how much _certain houses_ may worship him.”

Snape icily stated. “Class dismissed.” 

Everyone left quickly, eager to get out of the tension-filled room. It was a rarity that Snape took points from Slytherin. _Bloody Potter._

He glared at Potter as he stomped down the hallway like a petulant child. He rolled his eyes as he caught Pansy’s eye.

“What is _wrong _with him?” She questioned.

“That, would be longer than Snape’s Werewolf assignment.” Draco remarked.

She laughed gaily as they made their way to their next class. He couldn’t help but smile as her laughter rang like bells through the corridors.

The next day was the match. When he glanced outside, he was rather thankful that they had backed out. It was awful. Pansy pestered him to attend enough that he reluctantly agreed.

They were apparently cheering for Hufflepuff. Anyone but Gryffindor, he supposed. He turned his head and he spotted Harry, sitting alone in the stands. He frowned. He would have thought he would be sitting with Neville and the rest of his bloody Gryffindor friends. _Not that I care._ He told himself as he turned away.

The weather was so dreadful he couldn’t properly see what was going on in the field. _I can’t believe I let Pansy talk me into attending this atrocity._ He thought grumpily.

Then he spotted the black cloaked figures rush downward quickly toward the Gryffindor stands. He watched in horror as the round form of Neville ran away from the stands as they descended upon him. His heart pounded out of his chest as his mouth hung ajar.

Then, just as quickly, silvery smoke hovered around the dementors and they retreated. They rushed Longbottom, who was passed out, off the field to the hospital wing.

Everyone was talking about it. Some said he had received the dementor’s kiss. Others said he was in a coma. _I don’t care either way._ He told himself. When he spotted Harry, he could see that he had dark shadows under his eyes. _He’s worried about him._ Draco was tempted to go and ask but wisely decided against it. 

He quickly realized the rumours about him being in a dire state of health were false. He spotted Longbottom leaving the hospital wing leaving as he entered to finally get his bandages taken off.

Later on, he saw Longbottom, walking about in the corridors in a trance-like state, looking quite ghastly. People questioned him but he was shielded by Finnigan, Weasel, and that other Gryffindor. He was quite sure his name was Dean. In the hype he almost forgot that Hufflepuff beat the Gryffindors that day until that moment.

“Hey! I’m sure Hufflepuff is thankful you fainted at the sight of those dementors!” He called after Longbottom.

In Potions, he made a point to do imitations of him passing out from across the dungeon. When that moronic git, Weasel, hit him in the face with a disgusting, slippery crocodile heart, Snape took fifty points from Gryffindor. _Serves him right! _He had thought to himself smugly.

Since his bandages were removed, he worked extra hard during practice to prove he was able to perform just as well as before. He hated how out of shape he was from his time off. He was afraid he had too many sweets, despite that fact that he was barely eating much of anything. There were times he felt so faint he nearly fell off his broom. Potter kept shooting him strange looks from affair. It almost looked like _concern_. Draco quickly wrote it off. _Impossible_.

Marcus was always yelling at him. By Christmas holiday he was on edge as a result. Not to mention the fact that he wasn’t too fond of the idea of going home for the holiday. Needing to improve his Quidditch skills was not a good enough of an excuse to stay according to his mother.

There was one more trip to Hogsmeade before the holidays but Flint kept them all for practice. Except for Potter, who was apparently sick.

He had just seen him a few days prior. The memory of _that_ made him sick enough that he didn't want to think about it.

It wasn't just that. It wasn’t like Potter to skip out on Quidditch practice. Normally he’d show up even if his eyes were puffy and his nose was red. _He’s up to something._ He thought to himself. As he eventually managed to put Potter out of his mind. He had bigger problems, such as playing well and worrying about going home for the holidays.

They came far too quickly for his taste. He tried to avoid his father at all cost but it proved to be rather difficult. He quickly cornered and berated him for allowing a beast to get the better of him and allowing it to affect his Quidditch despite the fact that he had agreed that it helped them get the upper edge.

“How _dare _you make your family look weak? Are you a dainty flower, Draco? Could you not have sucked it up and been a man?”

Draco tried his best not to cower before him as he spoke. “Marcus...and I agreed to. The weather was poor and he wanted out of it. We used my arm as an excuse. You always say to milk every situation to my favour.”

Father paused at that, contemplating his answer as he studied his face in an attempt to seek out lies. “You did not say so before.” He commented. "So this was not your cunning plan, then?"

Draco's eyes widened and then shook his head slowly. "No sir.

Father narrowed his eyes at him. “You are a disgrace to this family. You are lucky I was able to use the attack to our advantage. I am working on not only getting that oaf fired but executing the brutal animal that attacked you, as foolish as _you_ were.”

Draco gaped at him. He wanted the oaf to be fired but he hadn’t wanted the animal to be killed. As horrific the event had been; he didn’t want it to die. 

A sting to his cheek brought him out of his thoughts. “Where is your _gratitude?” _His father spat out at him.

“I—thank you, father. But we don’t need to kill the beast, do we?” He meekly stammered.

A slew of hexes quickly hit Draco and found himself on the ground, his body stinging all over. 

“You will not ever speak against anything I say again.” He hissed at him. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir.” Draco answered quickly. 

His father strode out the door, leaving him alone. He felt too dizzy to get up. 

“Draco, you know better not to speak against your father.” His mother said to him as she offered him a hand up. “Why Draco, you are light as a feather! Good lad.” She beamed at him. “You do need to eat a bit. You haven’t eaten since you arrived.”

He let her fuss over him a bit. He barely spoke. _What is there to say?_ He thought to himself.

Christmas came and went. His parents overloaded him with gifts so they could brag to the other Pureblood families about how much they dote on him. He pretended everything was brilliant.

A few days later he was walking by his father’s study and he overheard him speaking. He froze, contemplating the dangers of eavesdropping. _Why hasn’t he cast the Muffliato charm like he has so many times when punishing me? Perhaps he doesn’t think I would dare eavesdrop. _He considered this carefully. Curiosity still won out in the end. He hovered by the open doorway, silent as he listened closely.

“Did he do what was asked of him?” His father asked.

“Yes. Of course. He is putting things into place now.” Drawled out Snape.

“Who would have thought that Pettigrew would be such an asset? You made him out to be quite useless.” Father said.

“He _was. _Clearly Potter, Lupin, and Black held him back.” Snape stated. “Such a horrible crowd.”

Draco’s eyes widened. He knew that Pettigrew was the reason for what happened to Potter and Longbottom’s parents but he hadn’t realized they had ever been friends. He recalled what his father said about Potter and Longbottom’s family going into hiding because of the Dark Lord. Pettigrew had gotten word of their whereabouts and told the Dark Lord. His father had relayed clearly that Pettigrew had betrayed them both. _Is there more to it than that?_

“...needs an opportunity to get to Longbottom and Potter.” His father was saying.

“That _is _the tricky part, isn’t it?” 

_So, Pettigrew really is after them? The Dark Lord is gone, though! Was this some petty Death Eater revenge? _

“One of them. We have to actually find the Dark Lord. Last I heard he was Albania.” His father said.

“Ah, yes. Perhaps you should take the trip, Lucius.”

“Would look quite suspicious, don’t you think? Let Pettigrew go and take them with. If anything goes wrong let him take the fall.”

“What about our glory? We _are _the ones who are setting it up.”

“I have thought of—-what was that?” His father spat.

Draco’s eyes widened, backed up quickly as he heard footsteps come towards him. Evidently it wasn’t quick enough because the next thing he knew, his father was barking at Snape to leave them and threw him on the floor to his office.

“How _dare _you eavesdrop on private conversations!” His father spat out. 

“I-I didn’t hear anything.” He stammered out. He feared for his life; he had never seen his father so angry in his life.

“Liar!” His father boomed through the room. “I suppose I have been too lenient on you.” He calmly stated after a moment.

Draco gulped, the colour draining from his face.

Father rounded on him as he sat on the floor. “Get _up.”_

Draco stood up quickly, trying to appear stoic to hide the fear that consumed him.

“Do you know what the Dark Lord did to followers when they failed him?”

Draco shook his head. He did not want to know. 

His father sneered at him. “He’d use the Unforgivable Curses. They are illegal and for good reason.

There are three of them.” He waved his wand at him. “_Imperio!” _He boomed.

Draco had a strange feeling wash over him. It was as though he suddenly had no control of his body. 

“Punch yourself in the stomach.” His father hissed.

Despite not wanting to, he found himself unable to stop himself from doing what was commanded of him. 

“Again, and harder!” His father commanded harshly.

Draco hit himself hard enough that he doubled over in pain. 

“Sit!” His father’s wand was still pointing at him. 

His bottom slammed itself down onto the ground. 

“_That _is called the Imperious Curse. It makes you a puppet. It was also used in forcing unwilling participants to complete tasks.” He pointed his wand at him again, “_Crucio!” _

Waves of pain more intense than he had ever experienced jolted through him like he was hit by a lightning strike. It only lasted a moment before it dissipated. His voice was burning like it was on fire but he didn’t remember screaming.

“That was Cruciatus Curse. Pain like one cannot imagine.” He paused. “The third was the killing curse and the one Longbottom had survived.” 

He put his wand away and Draco let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. 

"This brings me to your task, Draco. When the time is right, we will need you to help us. Failure is not an option. Your time eavesdropping as though you are a child are through. If you have questions, given they are not foolish ones, you come to me and ask. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes sir.” Draco hated the way his voice squeaked. 

He did in fact have many questions but he was too terrified to ask. The fact that his father had performed unforgivable curses on him was far too fresh on his mind.

His father must have had enough because he waved Draco off in a dismissive manner. He didn’t hesitate to retreat back to his bedroom. Once there he lay on his bed and cried over what he had endured, the task he was forced to take on and what would happen if he failed.

Before he left to return to school, Draco received a Firebolt for Quidditch. 

“Something to show off on and give you better odds so that you are more--successful at Quidditch.” His father said with a sneer.

_If only other things in my life were so simple._ He shuddered at the notion of being forced to complete an unknown task in the near future.


	8. Pettigrew's tale.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Neville learn the truth about Pettigrew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a pivotal change from the canon series. Let me know what you think!

Neville hadn’t told anyone about the Grim he saw on the day he was attacked by dementors on the Quidditch field. 

Hermione and Ron were still unbearable, Seamus would freak out, and well, he wasn’t entirely sure what Harry would do. Every time he saw one it happened before a near-fatal attack. The first time he was nearly run over by the Knight Bus and the second time he was nearly killed by them on the field. _Is the Grim going to haunt me until I actually die? Am I going to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder for the beast?_

Then there were the dementors. He felt sick, humiliation every time he thought of them. Everyone said dementors were horrible, but no one else collapses when they got near them. No one else heard echoes in their head of their dying parents.

He was certain he heard his mum begging for his lifetime and time again. He could hear it even when he was lying in the hospital bed. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling strips of moonlight on the ceiling, unable to escape his mum’s final moments and Voldemort’s haunting laughter before he killed her.

Monday came as a relief, even if he had to deal with Malfoy’s taunting. Ron cracked during Potions and threw a slippery crocodile heart at Malfoy and hit him directly in the face. The look on his face was priceless. Ron said it was worth the points taken and the detention he had to endure as a result. Hermione sent him a dark look.

As they approached their Defense Against the Dark Arts Class, Ron paused just outside.

“If Snape’s teaching again I’m skiving off” He announced.

When Snape taught the prior class, it was horrible. He yelled at Hermione, made scathing remarks about Lupin, and gave them a rather long assignment about werewolves.

“Check who's in there, Neville!” Ron glared at Seamus who looked like he was going to speak up. He hadn’t forgiven him just yet.

Neville peeked around the classroom door. 

“It’s OK!”

Professor Lupin had returned. It certainly looked as though he had been ill. His old robes were hanging loose on him and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes. 

Nonetheless, he smiled at the class as they took their seats, and they burst at once into an explosion of complaints about Snape’s behavior while Lupin had been ill.

“It’s not fair, he was only filming in, any should he give us homework?”

“We don’t know anything about werewolves—”

“—two rolls of parchment!”

“Did you tell Professor Snape we hadn’t covered it yet?” Lupin asked, frowning slightly.

Babbling broke out again.

“He wouldn’t listen…”

Neville spaced out, not paying much mind to the other students or the lesson.

When the bell rang, the class gathered up their things and headed for the door.

“Wait a minute, Neville.” Lupin called. “I’d like a word.”

He doubled back and watched Professor Lupin cover the hinkypunk’s box with a cloth.

“I heard about the match and the dementors attack.” He said solemnly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time...furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds.”

After a moment, Neville spoke up. “Why? Why do they come after me? Why am I so affected? Am I just—”

“It has nothing to do with weakness.” Professor Lupin said sharply, as though he could read his mind. “The dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that others don’t have.”

“What about Harry? Or Ginny? They had horrible things happen to them too!” He exclaimed.

“Who's to say they hadn’t suffered?” He said in a way that suggested he knew more than he was letting on. “Still, you survived the killing curse and the death of your parents in front of you. That is especially heinous.” He stated. “Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair. They drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they cannot see them. Get too near a dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the dementors will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself...soulless and evil. You’ll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. The worst that has happened to you and anyone else on your position would have reacted the same. There is nothing to be ashamed of.”

Neville took his words into consideration before finally speaking. “When they get near me, I can hear Voldemort murdering my mum.”

Lupin made a sudden motion with his arm as though to grip Neville’s shoulder but then thought better of it.

“Why did they come to the match?” Neville said bitterly after a pregnant pause.

“They’re getting hungry.” Lupin said coolly as he shut his briefcase. “Dumbledore won’t let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up. I don’t think they could

resist the large crowd around the Quidditch field. All that excitement...emotion running high...it was their idea of a feast.”

“Azkaban must be terrible.” Neville muttered.

Lupin nodded slightly. “The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don’t need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, but when they’re all trapped in their own minds, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most of them go mad within weeks.”

“But Peter Pettigrew escaped them. He got away.”

“Yes,” Lupin said. “Pettigrew must have figured something out. I wouldn’t have believed it possible. Dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long…”

“_You_ made the dementor on the train back off.” Neville suddenly stated.

“There are certain defenses one can use. But there was only one in the train. The more there are the harder they are to resist.”

“What defenses? Can you teach me...and Harry?”

“I don’t pretend to be an expert at fighting dementors. Quite the contrary…”

“But if they attack again…and you said Harry is affected too. Ginny…well I don’t think she’s up to the task…but Harry and I…”

Lupin stared into Neville’s determined expression, hesitated, and then said, “Well, alright. I’ll help. But it will have to wait until next term, I’m afraid. I have to do before the holidays. I chose a rather inconvenient time to fall ill.”

Later that day he told Harry about his discussion with Lupin. He seemed relieved by the prospect of learning how to fight them. He refused to tell Neville what happened when he was near dementors but Neville could only imagine.

“Sirius told me to tell you that we are to stay for the Christmas holiday. It’s safer here.” He smirked.

“Why are you smiling about it? Don’t you want to go home?” 

“I’ve got something to show you but you’ve got to wait.” Harry’s eyes twinkled with mischief and Neville’s heart lurched.

“You’re really going to make me wait?” Neville flushed at the slight whine in his tone.

“Yep! Consider it your Christmas present.”

“You’re unbearable.” Neville grinned.

“Oh, really.” Harry stepped up close to him until he was merely inches from his lips. 

Neville could have sworn he’d forgotten how to breathe.

Then Harry paused, seeming to forget what he was doing. Neville grasped grabbed Harry’s hands and they both leaned in. He closed his eyes as sparks ran between them.

Snickering tore them apart quickly.

“I knew you were both bent! Disgusting!” Malfoy wrinkled his nose at them in utter disgust but there was a fire in his gaze. 

Neville said nothing as he fled the scene and didn’t glance back.

For the next two weeks he hardly spoke to anyone. _Who could I even tell? I don’t want to go to Harry’s guardians, that’s weird. It’d be too weird to go to a girl and none of my mates would understand. They might even hate me._

He wished he could talk to Harry about it but he avoided Neville just as much as he did him.

On top of it all, there was another Hogsmeade coming up that he had to miss out on. 

Not that he had anyone to go with. Hermione and Ron weren’t talking either so anytime spent with them was split. Seamus and Dean were fun but they were always sort of engrossed in each other; he felt like a third wheel. Of course, he couldn’t see Harry even though he missed him terribly.

On the Saturday morning of the Hogsmeade trip, Neville bid everyone going farewell, and headed toward the Gryffindor tower, alone. Snow had started to fall outside the windows, and the castle was rather still and quiet.

Halfway along the third-floor corridor, he stopped when he heard his name whispered harshly into the silence.

“Pssst. Neville!” The voice said again.

He turned so quickly he nearly fell over. 

Snickering, Harry threw off his invisibility cloak. “Oh, come here you bloody pillock.”

Neville hesitated and then stepped forward. Harry threw it over them and led him into an empty classroom to the left of rather imposing statue of a humpbacked, one-eyed witch.

He flung it off of them, smirking. 

Neville eyed him curiously. “What are you doing?” 

“I told you I was going to show you something as an early Christmas present.” 

He pulled out a map and laid it out on one of the desks. It was a large, square, worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it.

“What’s that supposed to be?” Neville eyed it with scrutiny.

“It’s a map. I was trying to find a way to sneak into Hogsmeade and I spotted Fred and George head through a secret passageway, squabbling about some map one of them pulled out of their robes. They both had different ideas on which way to go. I was fairly intrigued so I followed them out under my cloak. Suffice to say I learned what I needed to know about it.” He smugly stated.

“I thought you hated me after the—-”

Harry put his finger on Neville’s lips to silence him, a wave of energy rolling through them both. “Let’s not talk about that.” He said softly.

Neville frowned but then, after a few moments nodded his head. Harry took his fingers off his lips.

Neville quickly changed the subject. 

“How did you get map, then? Did you steal it?” Neville narrowed his eyes at him.

Harry pretended to appear offended. “What sort of criminal do you take me for? We struck up a trade. I had some rather pricey joke items that they wanted to get their hands on and they had a map that was quite valuable. They said they have the map memorized so it was easy to make it seem like they were getting the better part of the deal.” Harry said smoothly.

“You are unbelievable.” Neville said with a shake of his head.

“I know. Part of my charm.” He smirked.

Neville flushed red as he returned his smile despite himself. 

“Anyway—” The colour in Harry’s face seemed to match Neville’s. He took out his wand, touched the parchment lightly, and said, “_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”_

At once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider’s web from the point that Harry’s wand had touched. They joined each other, crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, then proclaimed:

_Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present _

**THE MARAUDER’S MAP**

The map showed every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. The truly remarkable thing was the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labeled with a name in minuscule writing. Astounded, Harry bent over it. A labeled dot in the top upper left corner showed Professor Dumbledore was pacing in his study; the caretaker’s cat, Mrs. Norris, was prowling the second floor; and Peeves the Poltergeist was currently bouncing around the trophy room. As Neville’s eyes traveled up and down the familiar corridors, he noticed something else.

Harry followed his gaze to a set of passages he had never entered.

“That’s right, they lead to Hogsmeade.” He said as he traced one of them with his finger. “There are seven in all.” He pointed to four of the passageways. “Fred and George said that Filch knows about these four.” He said, “but he’s sure that no one else knows about _these_. Don’t bother with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. Fred says it was caved in last winter. I don’t think anyone has used this one because the Whomping Willow was planted near the entrance. This one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes. It’s what I used the last Hogsmeade trip.”

Neville narrowed his eyes at him. “Harry…how do you know you can trust this? Fred and George sometimes have some dodgy things…”

“Stop worrying. Fred and George have used it for ages.” He said. “George had stated himself that he and Fred owe a lot to Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Something about noblemen and lawbreakers. It’s safe.” Harry insisted.

Neville frowned but nodded.

“Now, after we finish, we have to wipe it or anyone can read it.” Harry explained, taking his nod as agreement. “Just tap it against and say, ‘Mischief Managed!’ And it will go blank.”

Neville wrinkled his nose, furrowed his brows and pursed his lips into a thin line as he contemplated it.

“What about not trusting things that you can’t see its brain? Or have you already forgotten last year?” Neville said finally.

Harry sighed. “This isn’t the same! It’s harmless. Now, come on! Time is wasting!” He pulled the invisibility cloak over them before reaching out and grabbed for Neville’s hand. All of his doubts emptied his mind as a charge of energy rushed through him.

Harry led him behind a statue of a one-eyed witch. He stared over Harry’s shoulder as he watched in astonishment as the map instructed Harry to tap the witch and say, “_Dissendium”._

Harry repeated what the map instructed and to Neville’s amazement the statue’s hump narrowly opened for them. It was easy for Harry as he was quite slim but Neville had a feeling, he would have to squeeze through it a bit. 

Harry put the map away and slipped off the cloak. “I don’t think we will need it here.” He said with a mischievous smirk that made Neville nervous.

Harry winked at Neville, making his knees momentarily weak for some reason and then hoisted himself down headfirst. Neville stared after him in awe but then followed. The fit was tight but not impossible. 

He slid a considerable way down what felt like a stone slide and landed on cold, damp earth. He stood up, glancing about. Harry was already standing nearby with a light at the end of his wand. It revealed that they were in a very narrow, low, earthy passageway. 

Harry took out the map and tapped it. “Mischief managed.” He muttered. 

The map went blank at once. Neville gaped at it in awe. After putting it back into his robes they started down the passage as it twisted and turned like a rabbit hole.

“_Lumos.” _Neville whispered to his own wand as they walked. The ground was rather uneven so Neville nearly fell more than once. 

His heart was beating fast with both excitement and trepidation. It took ages but finally, the passage started to rise. They sped up, silent outside of their panting breaths.

Ten minutes later they came to the door of some worn stone steps, which rose out of sight above them. Careful not to make any noise, they started to climb. He stopped abruptly when he heard a bang in front of him, followed by a string of curse words.

“Forgot about the trapdoor.” Harry grunted as he rubbed his head.

“You alright?” Neville asked.

“I’ll live.” 

They waited silently for several moments. There weren’t any sounds coming from above them so Harry slowly opened the trap door and peered over the edge. Neville couldn’t see so he waited quietly behind him.

Harry finally turned to Neville before completely opening it and climbed out of it. Neville followed and closed it behind him. It blended in with the floor so well it was impossible to tell it was there. 

They were in a cellar full of wooden crates and boxes. Harry led him up to the wooden staircase that led them upstairs. Neville could definitely hear voices and the tinkling of the opening and shutting of a door.

“And get another box of Jelly Slugs, dear, they’ve nearly cleaned us out…” said a woman’s muffled voice.

A pair of feet was come by down the staircase. Harry pulled on Neville’s arm to hide behind an enormous crate and waited for the footsteps to pass.

“That was close.” Neville said anxiously, his heart pounding out of his chest wildly.

“Yeah.” He said with a smirk. “Come on let’s hurry. Might not get another chance.” He added.

Before he could answer he had already headed up the stairs. Neville inwardly sighed. _He will be the death of me._ He couldn’t help but think as he followed him up.

Once they reached the top of the stairs, they saw the enormous backside of a man with a shiny bald head. They slipped through and found themselves behind the counter of Honeydukes. They both ducked at the last second and crept away. 

Honeydukes was so crowded with Hogwarts students that no one looked twice at either of them. As they edged among them, Neville glanced around.

There were shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-colored toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows; there was a large barrel of Every Flavor Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizbees, the levitating sherbet balls that Ron had mentioned; along yet another wall were ‘Special Effects’ —sweets: Droobles Best Blowing Gum (which filled a room with bluebell-colored bubbles that refused to pop for days), the strange, splintery Toothflossing Stringmints, tiny black Pepper Imps (‘breathe fire for your friends!’), Ice Mice (‘hear your teeth chatter and squeak!’), peppermint creams shaped like toads (‘hop realistically in the stomach!’), fragile sugar-spun quills, and exploding bonbons.

As they moved past more sixth years, there were a few other customers trickled in there. Neville tried to duck in the crowd so he remained unnoticeable. Finally, Harry pulled him in a corner and draped the invisibility cloak over him. 

“Should have done this before.” He whispered to him. For a few moments, Neville forgot how to breath.

As he followed Harry through the shop again, they came to the farthest corner of the shop. Hermione was with Seamus in the back. He looked a bit sulky. Neville was rather surprised Hermione was hanging out with him. He got the impression she was still mad at him. _Glad she finally forgave him, then. _It made things easier when at least some of his mates were on speaking terms.

“Hello.” Harry said to them as casual as can be. 

“Harry! Not again!” Hermione whispered harshly.

“What?” Seamus perked a brow curiously.

“Not telling you, coward.” Harry spat at him.

Neville slapped the back of Harry’s head a bit more roughly than originally intended. He turned to him and scowled. “Ow, you prat!” He exclaimed.

Hermione and Seamus exchanged confused looks. 

“Who are you talking to, mate?” Seamus asked. 

Neville started to crack up despite himself. Then Harry joined him. The other two looked a bit perplexed a moment before Hermione finally gasped out, “Neville? Are you under there?”

“I’m here!” He said between snickering, though he didn’t show himself.

“You two are going to get in so much trouble! I can’t believe _you _would go along with this, Neville. Like I told Harry last time, you’ve _got _to hand it in to Professor Snape!” Hermione lectured.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Seamus cut in, bewildered.

Harry explained the Marauder's Map quietly to Seamus.

“But you _will _hand it in after this, right Harry?” Hermione pleaded.

“No way! It’s grand! Can’t give something like that up!” Seamus stated.

“If I hand it in, I’ll have to say where I got it! Filch will know Fred and George nicked it!” Harry added in alarm.

“But what about Peter Pettigrew?” Hermione hissed. “He could use one of the passages to get into the castle! The professors have got to know!”

“He can't be getting in through a passage.” Harry said quickly. “There are seven secret tunnels. Fred and George reckon Filch knows about four of them. One of the other three is caved in, and the other has got the Whomping Willow planted over the entrance, so you can’t get out of it. The one we can’t through is narrow and difficult to see. Unless he really knew it was there; it’s unlikely he’ll find it.” Harry said with confidence Neville wished he had.

_What if Pettigrew knows the passage is there? _He couldn’t help but think.

Seamus cleared his throat and pointed to a notice pasted on the inside of the sweet shop door.

**———By order of———**

**THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC **

_Customers are reminded that until further notice, dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the recapture of Peter Pettigrew. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall._

_Merry Christmas!_

“See? I’d like to see Pettigrew break into Honeydukes with dementors swarming all over the village. Besides, the owners of the shop live above the shop and would hear any sort of noise.” Seamus reasoned.

Hermione bit her lip, ready to say more but Harry cut in.

“Look. I came to bring out Neville. He deserves a break after everything. It’s Christmas. Let’s drop it.”

Hermione looked like she was dying to protest but miraculously did not. Neville turned a bit red. _Is he really doing this for me or is he playing the guilt card? _It was always hard to tell with him.

Neville glanced around, wondering where Ron was. Seamus seemed to have not heard the last part of the conversation. Neville followed his gaze. Ron was there with Dean, Padma, and Parvati. Dean was hanging on Parvati’s every word while Ron and Padma seemed to look rather awkward. Seamus was glaring at Dean and Parvati with a particularly fiery expression. 

“Do you like Parvati too?” Neville asked Seamus quietly, getting the feeling that wasn't it at all.

Seamus jumped beside him and turned deep crimson. “Oh, forgot you were there. I don’t like either of them! A couple of knobs, they are!”

Unfortunately, the other two heard him.

“Who cares what they do. Ron still hasn’t forgiven me and Dean's Horrible for ditching Seamus for some girl!” Hermione barged in.

“Shut up, Hermione!” Seamus hissed, his cheeks turning beet red.

Neville thought back to the Quidditch game and the way he was acting. He wanted to ask him questions but he knew now wasn’t the time. He glanced at Harry who was also studying him intently. Neville wondered if he was thinking the same thing or putting things together. _No, Harry is blissfully clueless about feelings. He is probably flabbergasted._

“Look, neither of you should be coming into Hogsmeade. You haven’t got signed forms. If anyone finds out, you’ll be in so much trouble. And it’s not nightfall yet--what if Pettigrew shows up today? Now?” Hermione said, thankfully changing the subject. Not that Neville found that returning to this one was much of an improvement.

“That’s what the invisibility cloak is for, Hermione.” Harry told her with a smile. “Honestly, loosen up a bit. I do have something that might—-”

“Don’t you dare give her your Muggle weed!” Neville exclaimed with flailing arms that luckily no one could see.

There was a moment of silence and then they all broke out into laughter.

“You lot are aces.” Seamus said after he calmed down a bit. 

Smiles were worn all around.

They headed out of the shop after Seamus and Hermione paid for their sweets. Hogsmeade looked like a Christmas card; the little thatched cottages and shops were all covered in a layer of crisp snow; there were holly wreaths on the doors and strings of enchanted candles hanging in the trees.

Neville shivered. The invisibility cloak gave no extra heat. They headed up the street, heads bowed against the wind, Harry, Seamus, and Hermione shouting through their scarves while Neville struggled to keep up. 

Harry eventually called out, “Alright there still Nev--uh--you need a code name! How about knob head?” He smirked playfully.

“Shove off, git!” Neville said between shivering laughter. 

“Why don’t we go to get a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks?” Seamus cut in.

“Sounds perfect.” Hermione stated in an exasperated tone.

“Yes, that sounds brilliant.” Harry agreed. 

“Yes, please.” Neville added. 

He was more than willing; the wind was fierce and his hands were freezing. They crossed the road, and in a few minutes were entering the tiny inn.

It was extremely crowded, noisy, warm, and smoky. A curvy woman with a pretty face was serving a bunch of rowdy warlocks up at the bar.

“That’s Madam Rosmerta.” Seamus said. “She’s grand. I’ll get the drinks, eh?” He said.

Harry, Hermione, and Neville headed to a small, vacant table in the back. It was between the window and a handsome Christmas tree, which stood next to the fireplace. Seamus came back five minutes later, carrying four foaming tankards of hot butterbeer. 

“Merry Christmas!”

Neville didn’t fancy drinking under the cloak so he took it off. Hermione frowned at him.

“I’m facing the wall.” Neville said, nonplussed.

She sighed slightly, shaking her head but smiling.

Neville drank deeply. It was quite delicious and it seemed to heat every bit of his insides.

A sudden breeze ruffled his hair. The door of the Three Broomsticks had opened again. He turned slightly and glanced over the rim of his tankard and choked.

Professor McGonagall had just entered the pub with a flurry of snowflakes, shortly followed by Flitwick, who was deep in conversation with a portly man in a lime-green bowler hat and a pinstriped cloak. It was Cornelius Fudge, The Minister of Magic. In an instant, Neville put down his drink and pulled the invisibility cloak over himself.

Seamus and Hermione had both placed hands on the top of Harry’s head and forced him off his stool and under the table. Neville watched them as they moved toward the bar, and then walk right toward them, his eyes widening in horror.

“_Mobiliarbus_!” Hermione whispered.

The Christmas tree beside their table rose a few inches off the ground, drifted sideways, and landed with a soft thump right in front of their table, hiding them from view. Staring through the dense lower branches, Neville saw four sets of chair legs move back from the table right beside theirs, then heard the grunts and sighs of the professors and minister as they sat down. 

Next, he saw another pair of feet, wearing sparkly turquoise high heels, and heard a woman’s voice. 

“A small gillywater —” 

“Mine,” said Professor McGonagall’s voice. 

“A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella —” 

“Mine!” said Professor Flitwick, smacking his lips.

“So, you’ll be the red currant rum, Minister.”

“Thank you, Rosmerta, m’dear,” said Fudge’s voice. “Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won’t you? Come and join us...” 

“Well, thank you very much, Minister.” 

Neville watched the glittering heels march away and back again. His heart was pounding uncomfortably in his throat. Why hadn’t it occurred to him that this was the last weekend of term for the Professors too? And how long were they going to sit there? He needed time to sneak back into Honeydukes if he wanted to return to school tonight. Hermione’s leg gave a nervous twitch next to him. 

“So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?” came Madam Rosmerta’s voice. 

Neville saw the lower part of Fudge’s thick body twist in his chair as though he were checking for eavesdroppers. Then he said in a quiet voice, “What else, m’dear, but Peter Pettigrew? He is said to be after Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter, after all.”

“I did hear a rumor,” admitted Madam Rosmerta. 

“Did Hagrid tell the whole pub?” grumbled Professor McGonagall exasperatedly.

“Do you think Pettigrew is in the area, Minister?” whispered Madam Rosmerta.

“I’m sure of it,” said Fudge shortly. 

“You know that the dementors have searched the whole village twice?” said Madam Rosmerta, a slight edge to her voice. “Scared all my customers away. It’s very bad for business, Minister.”

“Rosmerta, dear, I don’t like them any more than you do,” said Fudge uncomfortably. “Necessary precautions...unfortunate, but there you are...I’ve just met some of them. They’re in a fury against Dumbledore—he won’t let them inside the castle grounds.” 

“I should think not,” said Professor McGonagall sharply. “How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around?”

“Hear, hear!” squeaked tiny Professor Flitwick, whose feet were dangling a foot from the ground. 

“All the same,” demurred Fudge, “they are here to protect you all from something much worse. We all know what Pettigrew is capable of...”

“Do you know, I still have trouble believing it,” said Madam Rosmerta thoughtfully. “Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Peter Pettigrew was the last I’d have thought. I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you’d told me then what he was going to become, I’d have said you’d had too much mead.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Rosmerta,” said Fudge gruffly. “The worst thing he did isn’t widely known.”

“The worst?” said Madam Rosmerta, her voice alive with curiosity. “Worse than murdering all those poor people, you mean?” 

“I certainly do,” said Fudge. 

“I can’t believe that. What could possibly be worse?”

“You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta,” murmured Professor McGonagall. “Do you remember who his best friends were?”

“Naturally,” said Madam Rosmerta, with a small laugh. “Never saw him without Sirius Black, James Potter, or Remus Lupin!”

Neville glanced at Harry, who nearly dropped his tankard with a loud clunk. He kicked him.

“Precisely,” said Professor McGonagall. “Pettigrew followed them everywhere. Seemed to worship them, especially James Potter. He led quite a few schemes, that’s for sure!”

“You’d think they were all brothers! Although, in retrospect, Lupin and Black seemed to have an ah--different sort of love.” Chimed in Flitwick thoughtfully.

“Regardless. They all trusted each other above anyone else. Even after Hogwarts they remained close. Sirius Black is Harry Potter’s Godfather and well, I daresay, he is close with Remus Lupin.” Fudge chuckled lightly. “Pettigrew worked closely as an Auror with the Longbottoms and the Potters. Pettigrew was fond of them and vice versa. Neither Harry nor Neville know about this, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment them.”

“Because Pettigrew turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?” whispered Madam Rosmerta.

“Worse even than that, m’dear...” Fudge dropped his voice and proceeded in a sort of low rumble. “Not many people are aware that the Frank and Alice knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted Frank and Alice at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn’t an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm.”

“How does that work?” said Madam Rosmerta, breathless with interest. 

Professor Flitwick cleared his throat. “An immensely complex spell,” he said squeakily, “involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find—-unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Frank and Alice lived staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!”

“So, Peter Pettigrew was their Secret-Keeper? ” whispered Madam Rosmerta.

“Yes. They decided of all of them.” said Professor McGonagall. “Pettigrew was the least likely for You-Know-Who to go after to interrogate so he was set for the Longbottom’s Secret-Keeper.”

“How does this tie in with the Potters?” asked Madam Rosmerta.

“Well, there was supposedly rumour of a Prophecy and either one of their children could have been the one. You-Know-Who had reason to believe it was more likely to be Neville but he was not going to take the chance. Pettigrew wasn’t supposed to be the Secret-Keeper for the James and Lily but he happened to have stumbled in when Black was given the information.” said Professor McGonagall darkly. “After the death of Alice and Frank Longbottom it was quite clear who the betrayer was. They had suspected someone was feeding information but they hadn’t a clue who it was. With You-Know-Who gone; the Death Eaters Bellatrix Lestrange, Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange, and Barty Crouch Jr. went to get information from James and Lily Potter. When it became clear that they wouldn’t say anything; they tortured them until insanity.”

“So, Pettigrew betrayed them?” breathed Madam Rosmerta.

“He did indeed. Pettigrew was tired if his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seemed to have planned this for the death of the Longbottoms and Potters. But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Neville Longbottom. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. This left Pettigrew in a nasty position indeed. His master has fallen the moment he had shown his true colour was a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it.”

“But he didn’t manage to disappear, did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him the next day!” Madam Rosmerta said with some satisfaction.

“Alas, if only we had before he killed those Muggles...” said Fudge bitterly.

“If only we had realized what he was capable of while at school. I taught him but he never seemed as talented as Black and Potter, though I dare say he hero-worshiped them.” Professor McGonagall said in a regretful tone. “Suspect we _all_ underestimated him. Just a wee fat little boy…”

Neville shifted with discomfort. _That’s what everyone thinks about me! How easy it was for them to disregard him and look what he’d done to my parents!_ His hands were balled into right fists.

“...I’ll never forget it I still dream about it sometimes. A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. Pettigrew was standing there laughing and spouting his allegiance to You-Know-Who. Kept saying he’ll bring him back. He’ll find his master. It was chilling.”

Fudge’s voice stopped abruptly. “Well, there you have it, Rosmerta.” Fudge said thickly. “Pettigrew was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. He’s been In Azkaban ever since.”

Madam Rosmerta let out a long sigh. 

“Is it true he’s mad, Minister?

Fudge furrowed his brow. “I’d say so.” He said, his voice said distantly. He was silent a moment and then cleared his throat. “Excuse me. Lost my train of thought. Terrible business, all of it.”

“But what do you think he’s broken out to do?” said Madam Rosmerta. “Good gracious, Minister, he isn’t trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?”

“I daresay that is his—err—eventual plan.” said Fudge evasively. “But we hope to catch Pettigrew long before that. I must say You-Know-Who one and friendless is one thing...but give him back his most devoted servant, and I shudder to think how quickly he’ll rise again…”

There was a small chunk of glass on wood. Someone had set down their glass.

“You know, Cornelius, if you’re dining with the headmaster, we’d better head back up to the castle,” said Professor McGonagall.

One by one, the pairs of feet to the weight of their owners once more; hems of cloaks swung into sight, and Madam Rosmerta’s glittering heels disappeared behind the bar. Three Broomsticks opened again, there was another flurry of snow, and the professors disappeared.

Neville and Harry exchanged dark looks while Hermione and Seamus gaped at them in stunned silence.

Neville couldn’t recall how he and Harry managed to return to the castle. Neither of them seemed to be able to form the words to speak.

His mind was racing since the Three Broomsticks. _Why had nobody told me? Why hasn't anyone mentioned the fact that his parents had died because their best friend betrayed them? Why was Harry never told the details? _Neville shuddered at the utter devastation and rage that was written all over his face.

Neville avoided everyone for the majority of the Christmas holiday. Ron’s mum required that they all come home for the holidays but surprisingly Seamus had stayed. He and Hermione annoyingly whispered conspiratorially when they thought he wasn’t looking. 

He didn’t want to speak to them anyway. He hated the way they looked at him as though they feared he’d go after Pettigrew, the murderous wizard everyone thought so little of. He laughed bitterly to himself. He hated that he could relate to that even the slightest bit. _Maybe I should go after him and show them I’m not completely useless. _He shook the thought. _That’d only prove that I’m a monster like him. _He thought. A part of him, deep down, still thirsted for vengeance. It twisted him up inside and tormented his dreams.

He quietly opened his presents in the morning, avoiding the worried glances from his Gryffindor mates. 

It wasn’t until lunchtime as they were heading down to the Great Hall that Hermione blurted out, “Oh Neville, you look awful! Please talk to us!”

“I’m fine.” He said curtly and walked ahead. 

As he reached the Great Hall, he found that the House tables had been moved against the walls again, and that a single table, set for twelve, stood in the middle is the room. Professor Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick was there, along with Filch, the caretaker, who had taken off his usual brown coat and was wearing an old, moldy-looking tailcoat. 

He and Harry locked eyes then and stared in a silent conversation of loss and the need for answers. Perhaps retribution. 

“Merry Christmas!” Dumbledore broke the spell and he glanced away.

There were two other students sitting next to him. An extremely nervous first year, and a rather sullen-faced Slytherin fifth year.

“...sit down, sit down with us.” 

It took a few moments to comprehend what he was saying. He glanced behind him at Seamus and Hermione, who looked a bit affronted. Neville sat next to Harry while Seamus and Hermione sat on the other side of him.

“Dig in!” Dumbledore advised the table, beaming around.

Neville was picking at his food silently, when the doors of the Great Hall opened again. It was Professor Trelawney, gliding toward them as though on wheels. She had put on a green sequined dress in honor of the occasion, making her look more than ever like a glittering, oversized dragonfly.

“Sibyll, this is a pleasant surprise!” said Dumbledore, standing up.

“I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster,” said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest, most faraway voice, “and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I beg you to forgive my lateness...”

“Certainly, certainly,” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. “Let me draw you up a chair —”

He did indeed draw a chair in midair with his wand, which revolved for a few seconds before falling with a thud between Professors Snape and McGonagall. Professor Trelawney, however, did not sit down; her enormous eyes had been roving around the table, and she suddenly uttered a kind of soft scream.

“I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be unluckier! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!”

“We’ll risk it, Sibyll,” said Professor McGonagall impatiently. “Do sit down, the turkey’s getting stone cold.”

Professor Trelawney hesitated, then lowered herself into the empty chair, eyes shut and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting a thunderbolt to hit the table. Professor McGonagall poked a large spoon into the nearest tureen.

“Tripe, Sibyll?”

Professor Trelawney ignored her. Eyes open again, she looked around once more and said, “But where is dear Professor Lupin and Sirius Black?”

“I’m afraid the poor fellow is ill again. He and Sirius went home for the holiday.” said Dumbledore as he sat down again, indicating that everybody should start serving themselves. “Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day.”

“But surely you already knew that, Sibyll?” said Professor McGonagall, her eyebrows raised. 

Professor Trelawney gave Professor McGonagall a very cold look.

“Certainly, I knew, Minerva,” she said quietly. “But one does not parade the fact that one is all knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous.”

“That explains a great deal,” said Professor McGonagall tartly.

Professor Trelawney’s voice suddenly became a good deal less misty.

“If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him —”

“Imagine that,” said Professor McGonagall dryly.

“I doubt,” said Dumbledore, in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which put an end to Professor McGonagall and Professor Trelawney’s conversation, “that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you’ve made the potion for him again?”

“Yes, Headmaster,” said Snape.

“Good,” said Dumbledore. “Then he should be up and about in no time.” 

He stood to his feet again. “A toast on Christmas! May we all stay in good health!” Everyone but Trelawney and Professor Flitwick lifted their goblet to drink. She seemed rather insistent on doing a reading from the little Neville could make out. Dumbledore sat down again.

Derek, have you had any of the chipolatas? They’re excellent.” Dumbledore asked.

The first-year boy went furiously red on being addressed directly by Dumbledore and took the platter of sausages with trembling hands.

Professor Trelawney behaved almost normally until the very end of Christmas dinner, two hours later. Full to bursting with Christmas dinner and still wearing their cracker hats, Neville and Harry got up from the table and she shrieked loudly.

“My dears! Which of you left his seat first? Which?”

“Dunno,” said Neville as he sent an uneasily glance to Harry.

“I doubt it will make much difference,” said Professor McGonagall coldly, “unless a mad axe man is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into the Entrance Hall.”

Even Harry laughed. Professor Trelawney looked highly affronted.

Hermione and Ron excused themselves as well.

On their way into the Entrance Hall, which was completely devoid of mad axe-men. Harry was telling Neville about how he got a Firebolt for Christmas when they reached the Gryffindor portrait hole.

Hermione and Seamus were already heading in but Neville hesitated. 

“Coming?” asked Hermione with perked brows.

“Uh think I’m going—”

Harry pulled him away before he could finish. “You don’t owe them an explanation.” He said. “I know you aren’t much into Quidditch, being rather terrible at it and all, but you’ve got to see my Firebolt!”

Neither one of them brought up the Three Broomsticks. They had a silent agreement not to speak of it until they were ready. It was just as well. He was thankful for the distraction. _The Firebolt is quite cool! _He had to admit.

The rest of the holiday they fussed over the Firebolt. Seamus joined in when they took it out flying. Neville crashed rather quickly but since it was into the snow it was sort of fun. Seamus and Harry smirked at each other in a rather conspiratorial way and made a point to jump off the broom before impact. 

Soon they were all purposely jumping off their brooms before crashing, seeing who could dare to jump the highest. Harry called it “Firebolt Chicken”, something that he didn’t understand until Harry explained the Muggle game chicken and the various ways it is played. Hermione eventually joined them but stood at the sidelines making noncommittal sounds of disapproval. In that moment it almost felt like things were _normal_.


	9. I hate you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts/death idealization.

Once Draco returned from the holiday, he spoke loudly about the specs of the Firebolt and bragged about how his broom was superior. Unfortunately, Potter also received one for Christmas. 

_At least it will give us an edge on the other teams._ That is, until Longbottom’s Gran bought the whole Gryffindor team new brooms, much like his father had bought new brooms for the team the prior year. The difference was that Longbottom wasn’t on the team in addition to the donation. 

He owled his father immediately and despite not returning with a reply, his father came through and donated Firebolts to the rest of their team. It seemed they both were at an advantage this season.

A week after term was the Slytherin game against Ravenclaw. It was still quite chilly outside so they were in for a cold game.

As Draco stepped onto the field, he couldn’t help but remember the Gryffindor game and the way the happiness was sucked from the field. He turned his head as he heard distant yelling. The rest of the team was already in the air. He hopped on his Firebolt and zoomed into position. Marcus had been confident that they had the edge with the Firebolt broomsticks. Ravenclaw was unfortunately a rather skilled team.

Draco couldn’t seem to get into the game. He couldn’t seem to catch the ball or score. His mind kept wandering to recent events, most notably his father’s ambiguous mention of plans for him. _What did this entail? When will he know? _

Then there was the fact that Pettigrew planned on taking Potter and Longbottom to find the Dark Lord. _Where is Pettigrew, though? _There had been rumours but nothing seemed concrete. _How is he in contact with father?_

After another missed catch of the Quaffle and Marcus called a timeout. He pulled Draco aside, visibly seething.

“I don’t know what you are daydreaming about out there but you had better stop this rubbish immediately. If we lose because of you I will make sure you suffer for the remainder of the year.” He spat out.

“Worry about your own playing, _Captain. _We are only as strong as our leader, after all.” He retorted with a sneer.

As soon as their time ran out, he raced into the field. Draco was considerably terrified of Marcus’ wrath but he wasn’t about to let him see that. _Malfoys don’t show fear._

He played worse than ever. Ravenclaw was up ninety points and Marcus managed to scream himself hoarse. Everything felt like everything was coming down on him. Every time he shut his eyes at night, he saw his father’s disappointed face and then he felt the unbearable agony of the Imperious Curse. He put the _muffliato_ charm around his bed so that no one else knew that he woke up every night screaming and soaked in sweat. 

His hands trembled as he gripped onto the broom. He glanced down, wondering if he fell anyone would bother saving him? He wasn’t the boy who lived nor had he directly helped fight against the Dark Lord. He was the son of a Death Eater. Even though his father denied his involvement and hadn’t been committed to Azkaban; everyone knew where his loyalties lied. _If I fell off my broom that old coot Dumbledore wouldn’t help me either. I’m not one of his precious pets. _He was both furious and relieved by this fact. All he had to do was raise himself higher and drop. _Just let go._

“Draco? Are you alright?” It was Potter. _Isn’t it always, though? _He thought bitterly.

“I’m fine, Potter. Focus on the Snitch, you know, your one job?” He snapped.

Potter glared at him and flew off to leave him in peace. All he wanted to do was die but he knew that he couldn’t just yet. He had to help the two idiots so that at least in his death the bloody Dark Lord had not risen again. 

There was yet another interception from Ravenclaw. It was 120 to 30. Slytherin was suffering because of him but he wasn’t sure he cared. _Don’t these gits realize that the Dark Lord is planning on returning? None of this shit matters anymore if he comes back. _He himself knew that if it happened that he would have no choice but to serve him. It was what was expected of him, after all.

Applause and jeers jolted Draco back to reality. Potter caught the Snitch. _Bloody finally._ He lowered himself to the ground, and left the field, ignoring the cheering behind him.

Draco made it all the way back to the common rooms before the team caught up with him.

“What _was _that out there?” A rather burly, raven-haired, beaver toothed Beater named Peregrine Derrick barked.

Draco stopped, momentarily closing his eyes and then turned toward him. “_That_ was called a Quidditch match. Weren’t you paying attention?”

“Well I know what _we_ were doing but whatever it was that _you_ were doing; it wasn’t Quidditch.” The other Beater, a muscular, dirty blond hair bloke named Lucian Bole chimed in. 

“What was that? I couldn’t concentrate while talking to your abnormally large nose.” Draco drawled coolly.

He realized he was not doing himself any favors but it wasn’t like he could tell them the truth about anything. 

“Why you little—” spat out Bole.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.” Pansy said as she stepped next to him. “I hate to give you beaver teeth to match Derrick’s. Such unfortunate faces as it is.”

“If you think we are going to back down over some bitch—”

“Oh no? How about her, me, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle?” Daphne spoke up.

“This isn't over, Malfoy. Your little mates can’t always protect you.” 

Boyle and Derrick headed up to their dormitory. Draco was both relieved and annoyed. _Now I can’t fight my own battles?_

“You didn’t—I was fine!” He snapped.

“That is rubbish! What is up with you, Draco?” Pansy asked with a concerned expression.

_How annoying. _“It’s nothing. I just. Maybe I’m sick.” He lied quickly. 

He practically ran up to his dormitory, shaking slightly. They were getting too close and it put them in danger too. _I’m poison. Everything I touch rots. _His breaths quickened significantly. He was certain that he was dying. He lay back in his soft bed. He always wanted to die comfortably. 

When he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the pain as it jolted through him and then prickle with aftershock. He was screaming as he fell but everyone mocked him and called him weak.

A simple touch woke him. He croaked out something inaudible. His eyes shot open and there he was. _Potter._ He was beginning to think he was literally stalking him.

He tried to say, “what” but it came out a strangled sound.

“Draco...are you OK?” He asked in a ridiculously soft and sympathetic tone. 

“Stop calling me Draco, you twat.” He whispered harshly.

Potter had the audacity to laugh at him.

“OK, _Malfoy. _What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Since when do you care about my bloody well-being?” Draco retorted.

“Since you looked like—on the field—it was—odd—”

“Oh? Do explain. Use your words.” Draco chided.

Potter scowled at him. “Fine. Be miserable. Be alone. You’re a prat.” He turned to leave.

Draco’s heart pounded out of his chest. “Potter!” He croaked out.

Potter turned to face him; his face distorted into a strange expression. “I—um” Draco abruptly stopped talking.

_I can’t warn him. I can’t. Can I? _He considered it. _I am probably dead regardless so what does it matter anymore?_

“Pettigrew-is-after-you-and-Longbottom.” He said in one long word.

“Uh what?” Potter questioned with a perplexed expression.

He repeated it.

“Yeah, so I've heard.” He said blandly.

Draco blinked at him. “So, you know he’s going to take you to the Dark Lord and bring him back?”

Judging by his face; he did not. “How in Godric’s name do you know that? Are you lying?” Potter sent him a scrutinizing look.

“That isn’t something I’d lie about and how I know is not of import.” 

“Malfoy—”

“Shut up, Potter. That’s all I’ve got to say to you.” He crosses his arms across his chest stubbornly.

“You are unbelievable.” Potter muttered as he started to leave.

“Make sure you tell your boyfriend.” He growled at Potter.

He turned, “Look he’s not—I’m not—”

Draco raised his brows. He _saw _him with Longbottom. They were about to snog. _Two lads snogging._ He scuffed. _Disgusting. _Yet he also felt a pang of something else too but he couldn’t quite place it.

Potter appeared to have frozen in place and it amused him ever so slightly to watch Saint Potter drown in his own panic for once.

“Shut. Up.” Potter said finally and hurried off. 

Draco re-closed the curtains around his bed and drifted into an uneasily bout of sleep.

The rest of January and February rushed by in a blur. Practices continued to be a disaster and he was doing abysmal in every class. He couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything. He worried about Pettigrew and the anticipation of his father’s plans for him. He hadn’t heard from him since the holiday break. He was not sure if Potter took him seriously in the end. _Why should he?_

He stared around at his other classmates and wondered what it was like to be a normal student whose biggest concern was passing exams and who was going to win the House Cup. He wondered if the nightmare would ever end. Last year there was that bloody Basilisk and this year it was possible for the Dark Lord to return. _There was that diary but I haven’t a clue how that was supposed to work._

The match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor was approaching quickly. It was getting closer to the final match and the whole school was buzzing in anticipation. This agitated Draco to no end. No one seemed to understand that it didn’t matter.

“You are going to help us win the Quidditch Cup.” Marcus said when he pulled him aside after practice.

“I think that’s what I’m doing. It’s why I’m flying around and throwing the Quaffle around.”

“No, you useless piece of dung. You are going to help sabotage the Gryffindor team.”

He perked a brow, intrigued.

“Longbottom is terrified of the dementors. When they attacked during the last game it distracted Cedric long enough that he lost all sense of focus and lost the game.” He started.

“Right but we can't just command a bunch of—”

“No one is going to do anything stupid like that. You and a few others will dress like them and pretend to go after Neville so that they lose focus in their attempt to save their _precious _hero.”

Draco did not like the plan. Something about it irked him but he didn’t see how he had a choice. _Do I ever? _

His father’s influence took him so far. Everyone knew that his father was going against the oaf because of Draco being attacked by the beast. This convinced everyone that he was untouchable. He was content with that. He also knew that it only went so far, especially since they hadn’t been any new information on the case. _No. I have to go with Marcus’ little plan._

It was easy to convince Crabbe and Goyle to join in. They needed them as human building blocks. Marcus and Draco was going to stand on their shoulders while covered head to toe with long black robes. He might have found it funny in a universe where his father wasn’t planning on involving him in his plans to bring back the Dark Lord or Pettigrew planning to kidnap Potter and Longbottom. _Not that I care about what happens to them even if they are part of the plan to bring back the Dark Lord._

He couldn’t shake the foreboding feeling of the match. He felt the dementor’s chill deep within his chest. His father’s words about letting him down haunted him day and night. He couldn’t bring himself to care about his studies or even tormenting students. He went through the motions to keep up appearances. _Because that’s what Malfoys do. _He often reminded himself.

On the day of the match, it was sunny and cool. He, Marcus, Crabbe and Goyle hid away with their dark cloaks in hand. They had to do it at the right time. _Timing is everything._

He paid little heed to the game itself. Lee Jordan, commentator and Weasel twin lackey, was as usual biased toward Gryffindor.

“Gryffindor leads by eighty points to zero and look at that Firebolt go! Gryffindor has quite an advantage since their whole team has one. It’s only too bad that the Slytherins all have one too…”

“Jordan! Are you being paid to advertise Firebolts? Get on with the commentary!” McGonagall rightfully scolded.

Ravenclaw was pulling back; they had scored three goals, only placing them fifty points behind. _Looks like Gryffindors have gotten too cocky._

“Knock her off the broom if you have to!” Wood was yelling out.

Draco perked a brow. _Well that’s not Gryffindor-like._

Then, as the two Seekers spotted the Snitch, Marcus gave them the signal. Draco climbed onto Goyle’s shoulders while Marcus climbed on Crabbe’s. They pulled the dark cloaks over themselves and headed into the field, straight for the stands where Neville sat with his stupid Gryffindor friends and bloody Potter. _Wait, Potter is sitting with Gryffindors? So near the end? With that stupid pouf Longbottom? Rage filled him, fueling his performance._

Then something silver-white shot at them rendering him momentarily blind. The next thing he knew he was in a crumpled heap on the ground. He groaned as he struggled to untangle himself from Goyle and the black robe. He felt a piercing stare bore into his backside. He turned to see Professor McGonagall bearing down on them with an expression of utmost fury on her face.

“An unworthy trick!” She shouted. “A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage the other teams! Detention for all of you, and fifty points from Slytherin! I shall be speaking to Professor Dumbledore about this, make no mistake! Ah, here he comes now!”

He was still trying to extract himself from the robe as Dumbledore approached. His heart raced. _What if we are expelled for this? _He couldn’t bear the thought. He winced as though he could almost feel the debilitating pain coursed through his entire body.

“My disappointment is beyond measure.” Dumbledore said calmly, though there was an iciness to his tone. “Your potential could be endless yet you cling to fear and darkness. Do you doubt your skills so much that you wish to instead sabotage others to get ahead?”

For some irritating reason Dumbledore’s blue eyes pierced into his as he spoke. _Does he blame me? It wasn’t my bloody idea!_

“Since you already have points taken and were already given detention; I will be brief on my input. This isn’t what Salazar Slytherin had in mind for ambition nor was it cunning. Above all, think of how the rest of your house will feel once they are aware of your punishment. You are dismissed.” He strode away as swiftly as he arrived.

“Very disappointed indeed.” Huffed McGonagall as she followed him. 

Once they fully untangled the four of them wordlessly returned to their common room, which was full of angry classmates and a seething Professor Snape. 

Draco gulped.

“Ah, the heroes are here. Thank Salazar they were there to hinder our chances at winning the House Cup. One can only hope they are able to use such _cunning _skills to defeat Gryffindor in the final match.”

Draco kept his head down as members of his house jeered at him. He felt quite foolish. _Why did I go along with it? Why can’t they all just leave me alone? _

He hurried off to his dormitory, forcing himself to hold his head up high and proud as he passed them.

He slid into bed and pulled the covers over his head. _I wish I could disappear._

"You don’t make any sense.”

_Potter._

“Go away, you horrible pest.” He grumbled.

“You warn me of danger and then you pull a stunt like that. What is _with_ you, Malfoy?” Harry continued as though he hadn’t spoken.

“Shut up and go away.” He wasn’t in the mood. It wasn’t like he had a real explanation.

As intimidating as some of his classmates were; surely, they believed his father protected him enough to not do anything too horrific. He audibly sighed, awaiting Potter’s persistent babble. When it didn’t come, he pulled back the covers. He wasn’t standing in front of him anymore. He frowned and curled himself around the covers again. Somehow, his lack of persistence was worse.

That night he tossed and turned. He kept dreaming of trying to fly in the Quidditch final but for some reason the air was like mud that he struggled to move through. Then he realized he wasn’t controlling his broom at all. An ominous figure in a dark cloak was pointing its wand at his broom, rendering it to their will. 

He woke up with a start to the sound of screaming. At first, he thought it was his own voice but he quickly realized that it sounded too far away. He grabbed his wand and sat up. 

“_Lumos.” _He whispered as he opened the curtains of his bed. 

Professor Snape was hovering around as panicked voices became clearer to him. He pulled himself off his bed and walked over.

“What is this?” He asked, still half asleep.

“There has been an attack. Potter claims that somehow Pettigrew has gotten inside.” Snape drawled out.

“W-what?” He sputtered out.

“I-I saw him. He slashed the curtains with a knife. Just now. I saw the shadow of him…” Potter said as Draco approached. 

“A nightmare and attention seeking, I’m sure. Wizards do not carry around knives like common Muggles nor can anyone just enter the portrait.” Snape insisted. “All the same, everyone to the common room.”

They all trampled down to the common room in their nighties, boys and girls alike. 

“It was not a nightmare!” Harry insisted once they reached the common room. “I woke up and a shadow stood before me holding a knife! It had to be Pettigrew! Who else is trying to kill me!” He yelled. “Ask the portrait! Ask!”

Glaring suspiciously at Potter, Professor Snape pushed the portrait back open and went outside. The whole common room listened with bated breath.

“Did you just let Peter Pettigrew enter the Slytherin Common Room?”

“I did no such thing!” He indignantly exclaimed.

“You see? Everyone back to bed. _Now!_ There will be no more of this!”

Potter tried to make his case again but no one listened. When he caught Draco’s gaze, however, a chill ran down his spine. _He isn’t lying_. _But how? How could someone get in without the portrait knowing?_

Despite Snape’s cold reassurance; no one in Slytherin slept well. It left everyone with a strange, uneasy feeling. Draco stayed up for the rest of the night, panic seized him at inopportune moments, preventing him from falling into a slumber.

That morning they learned that there was a near identical attack in the Gryffindor tower. The Weasel was the one nearly attacked. 

Despite countless searches, however, it had been concluded that Pettigrew somehow escaped undetected. Their portrait hadn’t let any unauthorized personnel in either. _It was no coincidence. _He thought gravely.

Throughout the day, everywhere they went they saw signs of tighter security; Professor Flitwick could be seen teaching the front doors to recognize a large picture of Peter Pettigrew; Filch was bustling up and down the corridors, boarding up everything from tiny cracks in the walls to mouse holes. 

A few knights were guarding Slytherin and surly security trolls joined the Fat Lady at her portrait.

Draco was terrified by the reality of it. Pettigrew was clearly closing in on Potter. He wasn’t sure he could trust the school to actually keep any of them safe. _But what can I do? What can I possibly do? _The thought of Pettigrew getting to Potter left his stomach in knots. He couldn’t even look at him out of fear that he will do something rash like ask if he was OK or something absolutely absurd like _touch him_.

Chatter was low during breakfast that day. Everyone was subdued. The Weasel nauseatingly milked his momentary fame for all it was worth. He was loudly retelling the tale of his so-called heroics. Potter withdrew himself quickly and any badgering for a recount or any sort of attention was either ignored or met with a piercing glare that gave Snape a run for his money. 

His mother delivered him a piece of parchment without any sweets. Usually she attached at least one with her letters. This time it was just his name on the front in swooping handwriting.

_Draco,_

_Your father was too ashamed to write to you. We are both humiliated by your behavior. We were told by a reliable source that you were involved in some sort of prank where you pretended to be dementors to get an edge in Quidditch. I’d like to think we taught you better than this. You at least could have had the decency not to get caught. Times are changing, Draco, and it is time to put foolish things behind you. Big changes approach and I’m afraid that unless you grow up you will be ill equipped to deal with them. You are lucky you did not get in more trouble than you did. Keep your head down. Remember to mind your sweets._

_-Mother_

His face fell. It was so cold and distant. He wondered if his father dictated every word. His mother was not the most affectionate sort but she had never written a full-length letter like this. _I think I prefer a swift death at the hands of Pettigrew._ He thought morosely. _Had they even heard about the attack last night?_

He put down his apple and left the table abruptly. _I’m not hungry anyway. _His stomach betrayed him and twisted with suppressed hunger pains. _Shove off._ He told the unreasonable thing. 

Draco stopped suddenly when he heard footsteps behind him. He pulled out his wand and turned. Potter stared at him with a look of surprise. He growled.

“What are you doing, Potter? Are you stalking me?” He demanded.

“N-no. Shut up!” He snapped.

Draco took him in more carefully. His skin was sallow and he had dark circles under his eyes. It looked like he hadn’t been sleeping lately. He wanted to ask if he was OK but the words refused to come out of his mouth properly.

“Are you OK, Malfoy?” He asked as though it was such an easy question.

“I am fine, Potter. What do you want?” 

“Just--to talk. I mean, you are the one that warned me right before we are attacked by Pettigrew.” He pointed out.

“Now you know I wasn’t lying.” Draco blandly responded.

“How did you know? What are you playing at?” Potter demanded.

Draco was quite affronted. “What do you mean what am I playing at? I’m playing at you not dying, you insufferable prat!” He growled at him.

“Well that prank was rather cruel, after all. Why would you torment and help me in one breath?”

Draco was speechless for a moment. He wasn’t sure how to answer it. After a pregnant pause, he forced an exasperated sigh. “I may hate you but I don’t wish you dead.” The words tasted bitter on his lips.

Potter had a strange look on his face that he couldn’t quite figure out_. What exactly did he expect me to say? _

“You hate me?” There was a desperation in his voice.

“Don’t you hate me, Potter?”

Potter stared at him for a rather long time, his emerald gaze seemed to see right through him in a way that sent chills down his spine. He couldn’t help but helplessly stare back at him. 

Potter furrowed his brows and his lips curled into a scowl. “Yes.” He said finally.

Despite knowingly asking the question himself, Draco felt like the weight of the world piling onto his shoulders, crushing him into a billion pieces. He knew it didn’t matter because he expected as such even though Draco didn’t actually hate him. He _loathed_ the fact that he couldn’t hate him. Instead he was plagued with thoughts about him all the time.

“Malfoy?” A voice spoke from a distance.

He couldn’t seem to find his voice to respond. He was too tired. The world seemed to spin around him. In his mind’s eye he saw his disappointed parents, the looming presence of The Dark Lord looming over him, and Harry, hateful until Pettigrew--no _he _killed him as Longbottom watched in horror. Then he killed him too and the Dark Lord reigned over them all. His body convulsed in agony. _Crucio. Crucio. CRUCIO. _Darkness wrapped itself around him and squeezed until he couldn’t breathe. _With any hope, I’m dying. _It was his final thought before his mind became a blank slate and it all went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you ever feel like you want to harm yourself; there are places that can help you! http://www.suicide.org/international-suicide-hotlines.html


	10. Expecto patronum!

Neville made his way down the corridor to the library where he was meeting up with Hermione and Seamus. He wasn’t sure there was much of a point. His mind wouldn’t stop racing over the events of the day before. Images of Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Marcus sprawled out on the ground after he cast a Patronus flashed in his mind. 

A ball of fury grew within him. _The nerve of them!_ He found himself, in that moment, wishing they would get expelled. Or perhaps they should be trapped in a room with a dementor themselves and see what it was like. Even if they didn’t faint as he did; they were destructive enough to inflict some mental anguish. He found his fists clenched angrily as he stalked through the corridors.

Then there was Pettigrew’s break in. _Are dementors so incompetent that they can’t protect us from intruders yet seem to take no issue with attacking us?_

“Neville!” There was a desperation in Harry’s voice that he did not recognize. 

He uncurled his fists and ran toward him. As he got closer, he noticed he was holding the unmistakable figure of Draco Malfoy. One could easily identify him by his white-blond hair. _Why is Harry holding that horrible prat? Why does he sound so scared?_

As he approached, he noticed that the other lad’s eyes were closed and his skin was pale as a ghost. Neville gaped at him and then at Harry.

“What happened?” Neville asked.

He wanted to not care. He wanted to shrug nonchalantly and let one of his own find and care for him, if they were capable of such a thing. Yet, as he lay there looking malnourished, pale, and sallow bags under his eyes, Neville felt something akin to pity for Malfoy.

“He passed out. I said I hate him and he just—”

Neville furrowed his brows, anger creeping up on him again. Except or wasn't geared toward Malfoy but Harry, who appeared to be a wreck over his state for reasons that he couldn’t begin to understand.

“He-help me carry him?” Harry pleaded.

Neville narrowed his gaze at Harry, all of his pity for the other lad melting immediately. “How dare you care about him after everything he’s done! What is wrong with you?” He bellowed as his inwards twisted like a pretzel painfully. “Just levitate him, Potter. Or have you forgotten we are wizards?” 

Harry gaped at him in shock as Neville turned to walk away. He immediately felt a pang of guilt and tears threatened to spill from his eyes. He didn’t want Malfoy to die but he couldn’t imagine that it was so dire that Harry actually needed help. Maybe he just needed emotional support. _That’s even worse._

Despite himself, he turned around but the two of them were already gone. Tears finally spilled and slid down his cheeks. _He always chooses him. _He thought. _Why? After everything, is house loyalty more important?_ Deep down he knew that was not true. It was more than that. It was somehow, above all, what devastated him the most. 

He sat on his bed with the hanging drawn around him in the looking through the old leather-bound photo album Gran had given him long ago. It was full of pictures of his mother and father. 

After the previous night no one in Gryffindor Tower was able to sleep. The castle was searched again, and the whole House stayed awake in the common room, waiting to see whether Pettigrew had been caught. Professor McGonagall came down and said that not only had he also attacked the Slytherin House but escaped again. No one could figure out how he got into either dormitory. No one odd was let in and no one gave out their passwords.

Throughout the day, they noticed they tightened security. Neville feared it was not nearly enough. The Fat Lady appeared beside herself. She had a hoard of surly security trolls guarding her for extra protection.

Ron had become an instant celebrity. For the first time in his life he was the center of attention.

“...I was asleep, and I heard this ripping noise, and I thought it was in my dream, you know? But then there was this draft...I woke up and one side of the hangings on my bed had been pulled down...I rolled over...I saw him stand over me. I couldn't quite make out his features but I knew it was him. I just _knew_ it. He stared at me with his beady eyes and I looked at him and then yelled and he _scampered._

“Why, though? Why did he run?” He added to Neville and the group of second- and third-year girls surrounding him.

“You’re so brave.” Lavender said, fluttering her lashes at him adoringly.

It took every bit of effort not to roll his eyes.

Once they allowed them to return to the dormitory, Neville took full advantage of it to escape it all. It was too much.

As he looked at the photo album, he stopped on a picture of his parents’ wedding day. His father waved at him, beaming as he stood tall and proud next to his round-faced mother who was alight with happiness, her arm slung around him. 

Then there was James and Lily Potter. James’ hair was as unruly as Harry’s was now. Lily’s green eyes seemed to bear into one’s soul. It seemed unimaginable that they were condemned to a lifetime of care at St. Mungo’s.

He glanced over at Lupin and Sirius, beaming hand and hand unafraid of judgement from the world. Next to them stood a short, stout wizard. He seemed just as joyous as any of the other guests. Neville had never given him a second thought. His eyes danced with mirth and he had a sort of jauntiness about him. It was nothing like the cold-eyed, waxy, sunken-faced bloke on the wanted posters.

He continued to stare at the picture. _Was he already working for Voldemort when this picture was taken? Was he already planning on coordinating the deaths of the four other people in the picture? What made him join Voldemort? Jealousy? Hatred? Why?_

He himself had felt such fury toward Harry for caring about Draco. For a moment he feared that madness had overtaken him.

He glared at Pettigrew. No, it was different. There was nothing sane about him. He was inhuman. 

He slammed the album shut, reached over and shoved it back into his cabinet. He pulled himself under his covers after making sure the hangings hid him from view.

The dormitory door opened.

“Neville?” Seamus called out with uncertainty in his voice.

He remained still, pretending to be asleep. He heard Seamus leave again, and rolled over on his back, his eyes wide open.

A hatred he never had known before spread within him like a poison. When he closed his eyes, he could see Pettigrew laughing at him through the darkness, as though somebody had pasted the picture from the album over his eyes. He watched, as though somebody was playing him a piece of film, Peter Pettigrew stood by a dark figure. He could hear him say to the figure (though he had no idea what Pettigrew’s voice might sound like) a squeaky, excited mutter. “It has happened, My Lord...the Longbottoms have made me their secret keeper…and I managed to weasel my way into becoming the Potter’s as well.” Then came another voice, laughing shrilly, the same laugh that Neville heard inside his head whenever the dementors drew near…

Neville hadn’t gotten to sleep until daybreak. He had awoken to a deserted dormitory. He got dressed and moved down the spiral staircase to the common room. It was emptied except for Ron, who froze mid step at the sight of him

“Neville you look awful.” 

“Where is everyone?” Neville inquired, ignoring Ron’s blunt statement.

“Lunch. I came up to check up on you since you missed all of your morning classes. I informed the professors that you were sick after breakfast and I’d take you to the hospital wing at lunch time. What’s wrong? You seriously look terrible, mate.” He said with a guilty expression he recognized in Seamus earlier this year.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” Neville said quietly.

He turned as Hermione and Seamus entered the common room.

“Neville…” Gasped Hermione with a stricken expression. 

“What are _you_ doing here?” Ron seethed at her.

“First off this is my common room too. Second of all, I am concerned about Neville just as you are, Ron!” She shrilly replied. 

“Sure, as long as he hasn’t got a pet for your psycho cat to kill!” He retorted angrily.

“Will you two shut your gob? You’re making a holy show of things. We’re here to check on _Neville_.” Seamus cut in loudly.

“I’m fine.” Neville insisted irritably.

Ron and Hermione glowered at each other but didn’t continue arguing. 

“You don’t look too well, you know.” Hermione said, peering anxiously into his face.

“I’m _fine_.” He hissed. 

“Well we just want to make sure you weren’t planning to do something rash—like go after Pettigrew. You’ve been off since we found out…and then with the break-in and all” Seamus stated.

Neville frowned at them. He could tell Seamus and Hermione had discussed it quite a bit as of late. He said nothing.

“You won’t, will you, Neville?” Said Hermione.

“Pettigrew isn’t worth dying for.” Seamus added.

“Yeah, mate. You can’t get caught up in it all.” Ron jumped in.

Neville stared at them. They didn’t seem to understand at all.

“Do you know what I see and hear every time a dementor gets too near me?” He asked them. Hermione and Seamus shook their heads as Ron gaped at him. “I can hear my mum screaming and pleading with Voldemort. If you heard your mum screaming like that, just about to be killed, you wouldn’t forget it in a hurry. And if you found out that someone who was supposed to be a friend of hers betrayed her and Voldemort after her—”

“There’s nothing you can do!” Said Hermione, looking stricken. “The dementors will capture Pettigrew and he’ll go back to Azkaban—and serves him right!”

“So he can just escape again?” Neville spat out bitterly.

“But what can you do other than kill him—-and you can’t do that. You don’t want to kill anyone, do you?” Said Hermione in a panicky voice.

Neville didn’t answer. Seeing Malfoy in Harry’s arms and then the photo album triggered something dark within him. He didn’t know what he wanted to do but the idea of doing nothing, while Pettigrew was free to come after he and Harry was almost more than he could stand.

“Malfoy knows.” Neville said abruptly. “Remember what he said to me in potions? ‘If it were me, I’d hunt him down myself...I’d want revenge.’”

“You’re going to take Malfoy’s advice instead of ours?” said Ron furiously. “Listen... Pettigrew is a madman and is dangerous—”

“Malfoy’s dad must have told him,” said Neville, ignoring Ron. “He was right in Voldemort’s inner circle—” 

“Say You-Know-Who, will you?” interjected Ron angrily.

“—so obviously, the Malfoys knew Pettigrew was working for Voldemort—”

“—and Malfoy’d love to see you blown into about a million pieces, like Pettigrew! Get a grip. Malfoy’s just hoping you’ll get yourself killed before he has to play you at Quidditch.”

“Neville, please,” said Hermione, her eyes now shining with tears, “Please be sensible. Pettigrew did a terrible, terrible thing, but d-don’t put yourself in danger, it’s what Pettigrew wants! Oh, Neville, you’d be playing right into Pettigrew’s hands if you went looking for him. Your mum and dad wouldn’t want you to get hurt, would they? They’d never want you to go looking for Pettigrew.”

“I’ll never know what they’d have wanted, because thanks to Pettigrew, I’ve never spoken to them,” Neville said in an uncharacteristically short tone. 

There was a silence in which Crookshanks stretched luxuriously flexing his claws. 

“You know what is the kicker, though? Malfoy, who, you just said would love to see me blown to smithereens was passed out in Harry’s arms. Harry—our friend Harry Potter whose parents were tortured because of Pettigrew---was holding Malfoy, desperate because he was out cold. Malfoy, who taunted me with dementors and have tormented us all!” There was fury in his tone.

Hermione, Ron and Seamus exchanged astonished looks but no one dared to speak up for several moments.

“That’s what I thought.” Neville growled out and turned to return to the dormitory. He had no interest in going to any classes that day.

It took quite some time but he managed to fall back asleep. When he awoke, it was dark outside already.

“Neville?” Seamus spoke into the hangings around his bed.

“What?” He growled out.

“Can---you---c’mon mate. You can’t stay in bed forever.” Seamus attempted to sound jovial but fell slightly short.

Neville sighed, exasperated and opened them. “What?” He grumbled.

“Look--mate--I’m sorry. I know this is rough and I haven’t the foggiest how you feel---well, about Pettigrew but---Harry---” He trailed off, his face turning rather pink.

Neville furrowed his brows. “I don’t want to talk about him.” He snapped.

Seamus looked like he was about to say something but then didn’t. “Why don’t we see Hagrid? We haven’t seen him in ages.” He said.

He paused for a moment and then nodded, finally managing to pull himself off the bed. 

“Aces!” 

They got their cloaks and set off towards the portrait hole. 

“Hey wait! Neville isn’t supposed to leave the castle--where are you going?” Hermione called after them.

Neville groaned as they paused. “We are going to see Hagrid.” He said with finality.

It appeared like she was mulling something over before she simply said. “Hold on. I’m coming too.” 

They waited for her and then the three of them set off through the portrait hole, down through the empty castle and out through the oak front doors.

They made their way slowly down the lawn, making a shallow trench in the glittering, powdery snow, their socks and the hems of their cloaks soaked and freezing. The Forbidden Forest looked as though it had been enchanted, each tree spattered with silver, and Hagrid’s cabin looked like an iced cake.

Seamus knocked, but there was no answer.

“He’s not out is he?” said Hermione, who was shivering under her cloak.

Seamus had his ear to the door. “There’s a weird noise,” he said. “Listen—is that Fang?”

Neville and Hermione put their ears to the door too. From inside the cabin came a series of low, throbbing moans.

“Think we’d better go and get someone?” said Hermione nervously. 

“Hagrid!” called Neville, thumping the door. “Hagrid, are you there?”

There was a sound of heavy footsteps, then the door creaked open. Hagrid stood there with his eyes red and swollen, tears splashing down the front of his leather vest.

“You’ve heard?” he bellowed, and he flung himself onto Neville’s neck.

Hagrid being at least twice the size of a normal man, this was no laughing matter. Neville, about to collapse under Hagrid’s weight, was rescued by Seamus and Hermione, who each seized Hagrid under an arm and heaved him back into the cabin. 

Hagrid allowed himself to be steered into a chair and slumped over the table, sobbing uncontrollably, his face glazed with tears that dripped down into his tangled beard.

“Hagrid, what is it?” said Hermione, aghast.

Neville spotted an official-looking letter lying open on the table.

“What’s this, Hagrid?”

Hagrid’s sobs redoubled, but he shoved the letter toward Neville, who picked it up and read aloud: 

_Dear Mr. Hagrid,_

_Further to our inquiry into the attack by a Hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident_.

_However, we must register our concern about the Hippogriff in question. We have decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr. Lucius Malfoy, and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The hearing will take place on April 20th, and we ask you to present yourself and your Hippogriff at the Committee’s offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the Hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated._

_Yours in fellowship..._

There followed a list of the school governors.

“Oh, Hagrid.” Hermione said sympathetically.

“But you said that Buckbeak isn’t a bad Hippogriff, Hagrid. I’m sure everything will be alright.” Seamus said in a reassuring tone.

“Yeh don’ know them gargoyles at the Committee fer the Disposal o’ Dangerous Creatures!” choked Hagrid, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “They’ve got it in fer interestin’ creatures!”

A sudden sound from the corner of Hagrid’s cabin made Seamus, Neville, and Hermione whip around. Buckbeak the Hippogriff was lying in the corner, chomping on something that was oozing blood all over the floor.

“I couldn’ leave him tied up out there in the snow!” choked Hagrid.

Neville, Hermione, and Seamus exchanged looks. They had never quite seen eye to eye with Hagrid on creatures. Neville was afraid to ask what he meant last year by “follow the spiders”. 

On the other hand, Buckbeak wasn’t particularly harmful. In fact, Neville secretly liked him more based on the fact that he attacked Malfoy alone. 

“You’ve got a strong case, Hagrid. I’m sure you can win.” Hermione reassured him.

“Won’t make no diff’rence!” Sobbed Hagrid. “Them Disposal devils, they’re all in Lucius Malfoy’s picker! Scared o’ him! An’ if I lose the case, Buckbeak—”

Hagrid drew his finger swiftly across his throat, then gave a great wail and lurched forward, his face in his arms.

“What about Dumbledore? Dumbledore would _never _let this happen.” Hermione chimed in.

“He’s done more’n enough fer me already,” groaned Hagrid. “Got enough on his plate keepin’ them dementors outta the castle, an’ Pettigrew lurking’ around.”

Neville frowned slightly. “Listen, Hagrid. You can’t give up. Hermione is right. You just need a good defense. You can use all of us as witnesses—”

I’m sure I’ve read about a case of Hippogriff-baiting,” said Hermione thoughtfully, “where the Hippogriff got off. I’ll look it up for you, Hagrid, and see exactly what happened.”

Hagrid howled still louder.

“Err, should I make you some tea? It’s what me mam does when someone’s upset.” Seamus cut in quickly. The crying seemed to make him quite uncomfortable.

At last, after many more assurances of help, with a steaming mug of tea in front of him, Hagrid blew his nose on a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth and said, “Yer right. I can’ afford to go ter pieces. Gotta pull meself together...”

Fang the boar-hound came timidly out from under the table and laid his head on Hagrid’s knee.

“I’ve not bin meself lately,” said Hagrid, stroking Fang with one hand and mopping his face with the other. “Worried abou’ Buckbeak, an’ no one likin’ me classes —”

"We do like them!” lied Hermione at once.

“Yeah, they’re grand” said Seamus, attempting to sound enthused.

“An’ them Dementors make me feel ruddy terrible an’ all,” said Hagrid, with a sudden shudder. “Gotta walk past ‘em ev’ry time I want a drink in the Three Broomsticks. ‘S like bein’ back in Azkaban —”

He fell silent, gulping his tea. Neville, Seamus, and Hermione watched him breathlessly. They had never heard Hagrid talk about his brief spell in Azkaban before. 

After a pause, Hermione said timidly, “Is it awful in there, Hagrid?”

“Yeh’ve no idea,” said Hagrid quietly. “Never bin anywhere like it. Thought I was goin’ mad. Kep’ goin’ over horrible stuff in me mind... the day I got expelled from Hogwarts... day me dad died... day I had ter let Norbert go...”

His eyes filled with tears. Norbert was the baby dragon Hagrid had once won in a game of cards.

“Yeh can’ really remember who yeh are after a while. An’ yeh can’ really see the point o’ livin’ at all. I used ter hope I’d jus’ die in me sleep. When they let me out, it was like bein’ born again, ev’rythin’ came floodin’ back, it was the bes’ feelin’ in the world. Mind, the Dementors weren’t keen on lettin’ me go.”

“But you were innocent!” said Hermione.

Hagrid snorted.

“Think that matters to them? They don’ care. Long as they’ve got a couple o’ hundred humans stuck there with ‘em, so they can leech all the happiness out of ‘em, they don’ give a damn who’s guilty an’ who’s not.”

Hagrid went quiet for a moment, staring into his tea. 

Then he said quietly, “Thought o’ jus’ letting Buckbeak go...tryin’ ter make him fly away...but how d’yeh explain ter a Hippogriff it’s gotta go inter hidin’? An’ — an’ I’m scared o’ breakin’ the law...” He looked up at them, tears leaking down his face again. “I don’ ever want ter go back ter Azkaban.”

It wasn’t the happiest visit but it did briefly get his mind off of things. He, Seamus, and Hermione went to the library the next day and returned to the empty common room laden with books that might help prepare a defense for Buckbeak. The three of them sat in front of the roaring fire, slowly turning the pages of dusty volumes about famous cases of marauding beasts, speaking occasionally when they ran across something relevant.

“Here’s something... there was a case in 1722...but the Hippogriff was convicted —ugh, look what they did to it, that’s disgusting—” Hermione wrinkled her nose.

“This might help, look—a Manticore savaged someone in 1296, and they let the Manticore off—oh —no, that was only because everyone was too scared to go near it...” Neville slumped his shoulders slightly.

The more Neville thought about the ordeal with Buckbeak, the clearer it became that it was Draco’s fault that any of this was going to happen. He was the catalyst for everything that went wrong. He took away Harry and he was getting an innocent creature killed. Plus, he mocked Neville’s involuntary reaction to dementors. He rolled his hands into tight fists. 

There had to be something he could do. _Some _way to stop him and his horrible father from ruining their lives. _But I’m just a kid with no real power to do anything until it is convenient to them._

He thought about the things he had done and how it made little difference. Even Lupin had his own reasons, he was sure, to teach him how to make a Patronus a few months ago.

_“What is that?” Neville had asked him that very first lesson, shortly after term had begun in January._

_“Another Boggart. I’ve been combing the castle ever since Tuesday and luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr. Filch’s cabinet. It’s the nearest we’ll get to a real dementor. Harry will have to stand to the side in order to see it because the Boggart won’t turn into a dementor in front of Harry._

_Neville had wondered what his would turn into but the way Harry paled made him decide against it._

_“How does it work?” _

_“Well, when it works properly, it conjures up a Patronus.” Professor Lupin stated. “The Patronus is a kind of positive energy force, a projection of what the dementor feeds upon—hope, happiness, the desire to survive...but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the dementors can’t hurt it. _

_He even had doubts of their abilities despite what they had faced._

_“But I must warn you both. It could be too advanced for third years” Lupin had warned them. “Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it.”_

_“We’ve fought Voldemort, twice—him three times. Think we are fully capable.” Harry had retorted._

_Neville had sent him a warning look, not about to talk back to a professor and a parent to Harry._

_I get it now. Neville thought bitterly._

_“How do you conjure it?” Harry had asked._

_“With an incantation, which will only work if you are concentrating, with all your night, on a single, joyous memory.” Lupin instructed. “The incantation is Expecto Patronum.”_

_He and Harry repeated it under their breath._

_"OK, you first Neville. Think of a happy memory.”_

_Neville thought if the first day he met Harry when they were very young. He had been so happy to be allowed a friend…_

_“Concentrating hard on your happy memory?”_

_“Yes.” Neville said, forcing himself to continue to concentrate on the happy memory. “Expecto Parronum—no Patronum—-expecto patronum, expecto patronum!”_

_Something whooshed out of the end of the wand; it looked like a wisp if silvery gas._

_“Did you see that? Something happened!” Neville excitedly exclaimed._

_"Very good. Now it’s your turn, Harry.”_

_Neville zoned out as he studied Harry as he practiced. The way he moved, the way he bit his lip in concentration. He couldn’t help but be drawn to him._

_“Ready to try it on a dementor?” Lupin’s words woke him from his trance._

_“Yes.” Neville responded as he gripped the wand tightly in his hand._

_He moved to the middle of the deserted classroom. He tried to keep his mind on his memory, but something else kept intruding. Any second now, he might hear his mother again...but he shouldn’t think that, or he would hear her again, and he didn’t want to...do I?_

_Lupin grasped the lid of the packing case and pulled._

_A dementor rose slowly from the box, its hooded face turned toward Neville, one glistening, scabbed hand gripping its cloak. The lamps around the classroom flickered and went out. The dementor stepped from the box and started to sweep silently toward Neville, drawing a deep, rattling breath. A wave of piercing cold broke over him—_

_“Expecto patronum!” Neville yelled. “Expecto patronum! Expecto—”_

_But the classroom and the dementor was dissolving. Neville was falling again through thick white fog, and his mother’s voice was louder than ever, echoing inside his head._

_“Not Neville! Not Neville! Please—I’ll do anything—”_

_"Stand aside—stand aside, girl—” _

_“Neville!”_

_Neville jerked back to life. He was lying flat on his back on the floor. The classroom lamps were alight again. He didn’t have to ask what had happened._

_“Sorry,” he muttered, sitting up and feeling cold sweat trickling down his cheeks. _

_“Neville!” Harry knelt beside him with a concerned expression._

_“Are you all right?” Lupin asked._

_“Yes...” Neville pulled himself up on one of the desks and leaned against it._

_“Here —” Lupin handed him a Chocolate Frog. “Eat this before we try again. I didn’t expect you to do it your first time; in fact, I would have been astounded if you had.”_

_“It’s getting worse,” Neville muttered, biting off the Frog’s head. “I could hear her louder that time—-and Voldemort—”_

_Lupin looked paler than usual._

_"Neville if you don’t want to continue, we can let Harry give it a try…”_

_“No. I’m fine. I can’t take the chance of putting others in danger because of me.” _

_He thought of the last Quidditch match and nodded his head in affirmation._

_“Are you sure...Neville...I can go too there’s no reason—-”_

_“I’m fine!” He snapped at Harry. “I’m just as capable as you are!”_

_“I didn’t mean that.” Harry solemnly stated._

_Lupin cleared his throat. “Alright then. You may want to select another memory, a happy memory to concentrate on. That one didn’t seem strong enough.”_

_Neville thought of his almost kiss with Harry. The way they touched caused a current of energy that ran through them both…_

_“Go!” Lupin shouted in the distance._

_The room went icily cold and dark once more. The dementor glided forward, drawing its breath; one rotting hand was extending toward Neville—”_

_“Expecto patronum!” He yelled. “Expecto patronum! Expecto pat—”_

_White fog obscured his senses and big, blurred shapes were moving around him. Then came a new voice, a man’s voice, shouting in a panicked tone._

_“Alice! Take Neville and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off—-”_

_The sounds of someone stumbling from a room—a door bursting open—a cackle of high-pitched laughter filled the room..._

_“Neville! Neville! Wake up!”_

_Harry was slapping him lightly in the face. This time it was a minute before Neville understood why he was lying on a dusty classroom floor._

_“I heard my dad,” Neville mumbled. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard him—he tried to take on Voldemort himself, to give my mum time to run for it...”_

_Neville suddenly realized that there were tears on his face mingling with the sweat. He bent his face as low as possible, wiping them off on his robes, pretending to do up his shoelace, so that Lupin and Harry wouldn’t see._

_Lupin and Harry appeared speechless._

_“I think it’s Harry’s turn now…”_

“Neville? Neville. Neville!” As he jerked back to the present, Seamus came into focus.

He glanced around. He was at the library. Seamus and Hermione was staring at him with concerned expressions. He wasn’t asleep but he didn’t feel like he was in the present either.

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked after a few moments.

“Yeah you were moaning, though it was impossible to understand you.” Seamus added. “You didn’t even seem like you were asleep.”

“I’m fine. I’m going to head to the dormitory.” He told them curtly. 

He was in no mood for the company of others, especially if they were planning on showering him with more pity and concerned looks.

He took out the album again and started to flip through it again.

“_No! I want one more go! I can do this!” He said with determination._

_Harry was beaming at him proudly._

_This time Neville didn’t just focus on one memory of him and Harry but all of them at once. Every touch. Every surge of energy that flowed between them._

_“Ready?” said Lupin, who looked as though he were doing this against his better judgment. “Concentrating hard? All right—go!”_

_He pulled off the lid of the case for the third time, and the Dementor rose out of it; the room went cold and dark._

_“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Neville bellowed. “EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM!”_

_The screaming inside Neville’s head had started again—except this time, it sounded as though it were coming from a badly tuned radio—softer and louder and then soft again. He could still see the Dementor; it had halted... and then a huge, silver shadow came bursting out of the end of Neville’s wand, to hover between him and the Dementor, and though Neville’s legs felt like water, he was still on his feet. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand it._

_“Riddikulus!” roared Lupin, springing forward._

_There was a loud crack, and Neville’s cloudy Patronus vanished along with the Dementor; he sank into a chair, feeling as exhausted as if he’d just run a mile, and felt his legs shaking. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Professor Lupin forcing the Boggart back into the packing case with his wand; it had turned into a silvery orb again._

_“Excellent!” Lupin said, striding over to where Neville sat. “Excellent, Neville! That was definitely a start!”_

_“Can we have another go? Just one more go?” Neville asked._

_“Not now,” said Lupin firmly. “You’ve had enough for one night. It’s Harry’s turn. Although we cannot very well have you stand in front of the Boggart—Here —” He handed Neville large bar of Honeydukes’ best chocolate._

_“Eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. Harry will have to learn without the dementor.” He informed him._

_Neville ate the chocolate barely paying any mind to Harry and Lupin. He couldn’t seem to concentrate long enough. _

_Next thing he knew Lupin was saying, “Same time next week?”_

_“Okay,” said Harry, who looked exhausted. _

_Neville watched Harry as he ate a bite of the chocolate. He didn’t seem to notice him observing him. He was watching Lupin extinguish the lamps that had rekindled with the disappearance of the Dementor._

_He felt drained and strangely empty, even though he was so full of chocolate. Terrible though it was to hear his parents’ last moments replayed inside his head, these were the only times Neville had heard their voices since he was a very small child. But he’d never be able to produce a proper Patronus if he half wanted to hear his parents again..._

He closed the album and ran his fingers over it, tears rolling down his cheeks. The next sessions proved to be near impossible. Lupin decided that he and Harry should come individually after the first two lessons. Neville suspected that Lupin sensed that he was often distracted by the other lad when he was there and Harry had been upset, he couldn’t practice with a Boggart.

He thought back to the day before when he cast a Patronus during the Quidditch match when he thought the dementors were after him. 

“_Expecto patronum!” _He had yelled.

Something enormous and silver-white, erupted from the end of his wand. He knew he had shot it directly at the dementors but didn’t pause to watch. 

“The dementors didn’t affect me at all!” He had shouted to Lupin.

“Of course, not they weren’t dementors!” He had returned.

He curled his hands into fists as he recalled seeing the Slytherins sprawled out on the Quidditch field ground.

His thoughts returned to Harry’s expression when he held onto Malfoy so tightly in the corridor.

He smashed his head against the pillow and screamed into it repeatedly as he punched his bed. Heat filled him from head to toe as he yelled. All he could see was darkness and pain as it threatened to consume him. He let out a mighty outcry as he turned toward whoever dared put their hand on him. 

Seamus flew backwards and hit the wall. Seamus’ agony filled outcry was what jolted him out of it. He found himself rushing to his side. 

“Seamus? Seamus! I’m so sorry!” Tears rolled down his cheeks.

Seamus stared up at him, his face paled, and his eyes widened in terror.

“What...the bloody hell happened here?” came another voice. It was Ron.

“I—I—” Neville couldn’t explain it himself. He couldn’t get over the way Seamus had looked at him with such fear in his eyes.

He held onto the other lad, head hanging as he filled with guilt.

Seamus finally tried to wrestle from him. “Would you stop holding me like a lover, you bloody pouf? For the tenth time, I’m fine!” _How many times had he said he was fine?_

He let him get up, his gaze finally searching the room. It didn’t look so different from when Pettigrew had ransacked the room. Furniture was moved and their hangings were on the ground. Neville hadn’t left his bed before Seamus hit the wall. _How did I do that?_ He wondered. He thought of the summer and the Muggles they’d blown up but somehow this felt different. It left a strange taste in his mouth. 

Dean, Liam, came entered, both speechless. They gaped at him incredulously. Seamus quickly headed to the common room and Neville couldn’t blame him. _What in Merlin’s name was that?_

After a few moments Neville wordlessly followed him the common room. Seamus was having an animated discussion with Hermione, who wore a pensive expression.

Neville frowned. _Did he go to her for everything now? Maybe I had it all wrong and he fancies her!_

“Hey Neville...are you OK? Let’s go to the hospital wing, OK?” She spoke softly as though he was mental.

Neville shook his head almost violently. “I’m fine. I don’t know what that was but I am fine!”

Seamus’ expression sent another pang of guilt twisting into his stomach.

“What about you? how’s your head?” Neville asked, trying to get a look at it.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Seamus insisted.

“Well, we need to tell them what happened.” Hermione stated.

“No.” Seamus said abruptly.

Neville glanced up and Hermione sent him a quizzical look.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Hermione asked in an indignant voice.

“No. I don’t want him in trouble. I think I hit my head fairly hard but I don’t want...no one needs to know how it really happened.”

Neville gaped at him. “Why are you protecting me?” He asked incredulously.

“Because mate, I know it was an accident and the person it’s toward deserves it. I wish it was him, mate. I do.” 

Neville stared at him, unsure what to say. _Shit. He knows. He figured it out. _Judging by the look on Hermione’s face so did she. 

“Don’t tell anyone, please. Don’t even joke that I—” he trailed off. He couldn’t say it. “Gran would kill me…” Neville stammered.

“Yeah. Me too. And you heard what me mam thinks of it.” Seamus said sadly.

Neville’s eyes widened. “You’re...you...but...Hermione?”

Hermione wrinkled her nose bit. “Boys.” She couldn’t help but smile. “He told me what was going on…”

“With Dean.” Seamus said. “It’s been difficult and I didn’t know who to turn to. Lucky for me Hermione is so bloody clever she figured it out.”

Her cheeks flushed.

“Does Dean not—” He wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence.

“He’s not bent if that’s what you mean. He fancies Parvati.” Seamus lowered his gaze.

“Oh. I’m sorry, mate.” Neville said. 

Silence fell between them for several moments before Neville spoke. “I—so well let’s get him to the hospital then.” He said. 

“But let’s just go with I fell and bumped my head.” Seamus said with a wry smile.

Neville chuckled lightly. He nearly confessed his feelings for Harry but he couldn’t quite bring himself to talk about it. They seemed to already know and understand. For now, that was good enough for him. 

Other than a minor concussion, Seamus was OK. They poured over books to see what happened to Neville but couldn’t seem to find any. 

“What we need—is access to the restriction section.” Hermione said.

“We are a bad influence, aren’t we? Seamus chimed in with a grin. “Too bad the one who can help us is a right knobhead.” He added once he saw Neville’s crestfallen expression.

Harry had kept his distance since that day. He missed him but the fury was lingered beneath the surface. He wasn’t sure it was even safe to be around him. _Not that I want to be._ He thought bitterly, his hands already balling into fists at the thought. His mind immediately went back to that day in the corridor. The fury pushed its way up toward the surface. _I hate him. I hate him so much._

He had seen Malfoy up and about as well so he assumed he had lived. Neville thought that he still looked rather sickly. _Serves him right, probably. _He thought bitterly. Seeing him infuriated him all over again

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned his head toward Seamus. His cheeks reddened slightly, embarrassed. He could already feel a charge in the air.

“Sorry, mate.” Seamus whispered. He squeezed his shoulder before removing his hand. “We’ll figure it out.” He reassured him.

“Maybe we should go to Dumbledore.” Hermione said finally after they searched well into the month of April. 

“No! I don’t want him to—-we can’t. We can handle it. We just haven’t looked hard enough!” Neville exclaimed.

They went quiet again. Neville had a horrible, sneaking feeling that the one person he didn’t want to speak to might be the key. 

He took solace in the fact that for now, Pettigrew hadn’t tried to break in again. _How long will that last? _He couldn’t help but wonder at the same time.


	11. Pure-blood politics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for Eating disorders, fat shaming and disturbing situations. Although it is still age-appropriate, of course.
> 
> Let me know what you think of this chapter!

Draco jolted awake after a horrible nightmare. He blinked rapidly until his blurred sight cleared. _This isn’t my bed._ He thought with sudden alarm.

I’m _in the hospital wing_. He realized after a few moments. 

His brows raised at Potter’s slumped figure in the chair beside him. His appearance was rather disheveled. His glasses were crooked on his face and his hair stuck up worse than usual. He struggled to sit up. His body felt like led.

_What happened? _He wondered to himself. He watched Potter as he slept, every so often letting out a tiny snore. It caused him to unwillingly smile.

_What is he doing here? Isn’t he supposed to hate me?_

Flashes of that day washed over him and he frowned. _How long have I been here?_ He glanced around, trying to figure out how much time had passed.

“Ah, the prince awakens.” Potter jeered from beside him.

“Shove off. You’re the one snorting like a pig while you sleep.” He retorted.

“Watching me sleep, were you?” Potter smirked at him in the most irritating way. 

“I was not! It’s not like I could escape it.” Draco drawled out.

“Git.” Potter said.

“Prat.” Draco returned.

_It’s almost like old times._ He thought with a sadness he despised. He pushed it aside quickly. _Don’t go there. _He told himself.

“Draco...I’m sorry. I don’t hate you. I don’t. I should because you are a bully to my friends but I don’t.” Potter blurted out of nowhere.

Draco gaped at him, utterly confused by his words.

“I—well—” Draco stopped. _I can’t do this. _“How long have I been here?” He asked with a sigh, a pang of guilt sharply hitting his belly at Potter’s crestfallen expression.

“Uh since yesterday.” Potter stated awkwardly.

Draco’s brows shot up. “What? Why?”

Potter furrowed his brows at him. “You’re severely malnourished, Draco, not to mention underweight. How long have you been starving yourself? And why? Why would you do that?”

Draco paused and turned away. “What do you care? You should have just left me there.” He coldly stated.

“What? Why? So you could die? You realize that you passed out because of a hunger induced panic attack? You are sick, Malfoy.”

“I’m fine, Potter.” He forced his voice to be even. “I’m alive. You can go now.” He added, dismissively.

Potter let out a guttural growl and then, in his most antagonistic yet, moved to sit down next to him on the bed. 

“No.” Potter said firmly.

“No?”

“You can push me away all you want but I’m not leaving you.” Potter said stubbornly.

“Why?” Draco was taken aback.

“Because.” 

Potter leaned forward and pressed his lips against his before Draco could object to such a disgusting endeavor. He froze like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment as sparks generated between them. He could feel the raw power surge between them and the candles in the room all flickered. He could have sworn he saw sparks escape his fingertips.

Helpless against the overwhelming surge of feelings he closed his eyes and returned the snog with a flurry of emotions that fluttered into his chest like a butterfly. It only lasted a few moments yet he felt a sense of light-headedness that he had never felt before. Once they departed, his eyes widened in realization in what he had done and the crime he had committed.

“What are you doing?” He shouted, his arms flailing around embarrassingly. “I’m not—I _can’t! _I literally can’t!”

Potter bit his lip in a way that drove him toward madness.

“I know. But I almost lost you and I—it’s OK.” He sounded so sad that all Draco wanted to do was snog away the pain despite the fact that his mind screamed in utter horror. _His father’s horror_._ You’re the one causing pain._ As though his mind would allow him to forget it. 

He wanted to apologize or something, anything, but he couldn’t get his mouth work. 

“I’m sorry.” Potter said and got up from his bed. 

Draco was at a loss. “My father would kill me.” He whispered. 

Potter stopped and stared at him with such pity that Draco scowled. 

“I know. I know he hurts you Draco. I—” He paused. “Please start eating, for your own sake.” 

He headed out of the hospital wing. He could have sworn he saw another head in the doorway but write it off as paranoia.

Despite the desperate need to call after him he remained quiet. He forced his mind to become blank, pushing it all away again.

He eventually fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When he awoke Madam Pomfrey was giving him a stern look. He frowned. _Why does everyone insist on watching me like I’m mental?_

“Good, you’re awake, Mr. Malfoy.” She sternly stated. “Do you know why you're here?” 

Draco scowled and nodded his head silently.

“Good. Then you know why I’m giving you nourishing potions and an appointment with a mind healer.”

He gaped. “What? I don’t want any of that. Especially some loony who wants to pick at my brain!”

She sent him a scouring look. “This is not optional, Mr. Malfoy. If you have a problem you will have to take it up with Professor Dumbledore himself!” Madam Pomfrey retorted.

“But I can’t—just leave the castle.” Draco spoke after a moment, trying to keep his wits about him.

“One will be assigned to come here once a week during a free period.”

Draco slumped his shoulders. _This is ludicrous. I am not mental!_

“I don’t need any bloody counseling. My father will hear about this!”

“Oh, yes. We _should_ tell your parents why you're here.” She said coolly.

His eyes widened considerably. “Oh. Uh. No need.” He did not want to imagine their reaction. “Fine.” He said after a moment. It didn’t seem like he had much of a choice. _Do I ever? _He thought for the umpteenth time.

“Good. I’ll let you know when your appointment is. I need to speak with the mind healer and set it up.” Madam Pomfrey sternly replied. “You are free to go but you must continue taking this nutrition replenishing potion.”

He scowled but nodded in unwilling compliance as he took the bottle, she offered him. He got off of the bed and headed back to his dorm. 

Despite his rest in the hospital ward; he was exhausted. He was about to crawl into bed when someone clears their throat from behind him. He grit his teeth, certain that Potter was stalking him again. _He wants to talk about what happened earlier. I have to tell him that it’s something that can never happen again!_

He turned, his mouth already open to protest, when he realized it was Theodore Nott in front of him. He narrowed his eyes at him.

“What do _you_ want, Nott?” He sneered.

“Why Draco, what a horrible assumption. I’m positively _wounded._” 

Draco pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose irritably. “I’m tired. Can we have this_ oh so stimulating _conversation later?”

Nott smirked in a horrible way. It made his blood run cold.

“I think you’ll make time.” He said in a biting tone. “I think you’ll find me rather persuasive.”

Draco growled in irritation. “Spit it out, Nott.”

“If you insist on skipping such pleasantries.” He jeered. 

He dared to step closer. Draco stepped back despite feeling a bit woozy. 

“So, let’s say I know something about you that nobody else does. Let’s say that I know the cost of people finding out.” 

He kept moving closer to him.

“What are you on about?” Draco demanded, not about to show his nervousness.

“I saw you and Potter kissing in the hospital wing.” He revealed.

Draco’s eyes widened considerably as he stumbled backwards, forcing him to sit on the bed. “We didn’t...that is a lie!” He exclaimed after finding his voice.

“Oh, poor Malfoy. Such a terrible predicament you are in. I am certain your father would disown you and everyone in school would find you disgusting for such a terrible affliction. Poor little pouf. Just needs to be straightened out.” He jeered.

Draco blinked. As rude as he found him; he had never known him to be so cruel. _What is his angle? What is this really about?_

“You wouldn’t dare.” He spat out.

“Oh, I would. See, if Malfoys don’t have a proper heir then they can’t marry one of the Sacred twenty-eight. You can’t increase in status and perhaps someone else can properly take all the glory of bringing back the Dark Lord. After all, I heard that your father ruined a prized possession of the Dark Lord. Such a shame if the Dark Lord found out.”

_Is that it? He’s after the almighty Pureblood power? Merlin! How does he know any of that about my family? About my father?_

Draco stared at him with a practiced stoic expression. “What exactly do you want from _me_, Nott?” He hardly believed he was the strongest bargaining chip.

“First off, tell your parents you hate Daphne Greengrass and refuse to take her hand in the future. They are one of the most powerful Pureblood families and you are undeserving. Plus, what sort of children could a pouf like you make? Pass on your disease, most likely.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Second, tell me all of your plans to bring back the Dark Lord. When you drop the ball, I will pick it up and bring my whole family the glory and favour we deserve.”

Draco stared him down, “What makes you think I care about a marriage with Daphne? And I don’t know the plans so you are mistaken in your contrived plans.” He drawled.

“What you want is irrelevant, isn’t it? You will do whatever your father tells you, won’t you? If he tells you to marry Greengrass, you will. If he tells you to help bring back the Dark Lord, you will. I’ve been watching you. You’re a coward and a good little obedient pup despite your affliction. I have also seen how you look at _Potter_ like a lovesick puppy. You’re pathetic just like your father.”

Draco forced himself to roll his eyes. “No one will believe you, especially because I’m not bent. Especially not for Potter. He comes from a family of blood traitors, after all. It is not my fault he snogged me. It was far from enjoyable.” He lied, his mind racing. 

Nott cackled. “I saw you snog him back. As far as people believing it, well it does not matter, does it? Rumors have been known to destroy reputations.” He pointed out as he walked closer. “All you have to do is step aside and allow my family to rise in power and you can keep your pathetic dignity.”

Draco had no idea what to do. Either way, his father was going to take it out on him. _Regardless of what I do, I can’t win._

“Don’t strain yourself, Malfoy. I’m nice enough to give you a bit of time to think it over. If you tell anyone about this, however, well, it will be the end of your family’s prestige.”

He stepped up to Draco and pulled him to his feet. Then, unexpectedly snogged him roughly on the lips. Draco remained frozen upon impact. 

“A pouf like you ought to mean it.” Nott sneered as their lips remained an inch apart.

“Doesn’t this also make you bent?” Draco managed to retort despite his heart pounding out of his chest. 

“No. It means I have the power. Now. Snog me back, you nasty little pouf or the deal is off.”

He pressed his lips against Draco’s again and he reluctantly responded, feeling violently sick and violated.

Nott pulled back finally and shoved Draco back onto his bed. “Good lad. Ta for now!” He turned and headed out. 

His whole body trembled as he crawled toward his pillow and pulled the covers over his head. He expelled shaky breaths, panic resonating in his chest. He turned over onto his belly and screamed into his pillow and burst into tears.

A week later he ached with exhaustion from barely sleeping. New nightmares plagued his mind. He tried to avoid everyone, especially Nott and Potter. He didn’t care to take the nourishing potion given to him. _I don’t need it. _He told himself. He had to take control of _something _in his life. This was it. He had to keep casting _Reducio_ on his clothes so that no one noticed how baggy they actually were.

Hogsmeade was that weekend but he wasn’t planning on going. That is, until Pansy hijacked him and guilted him into it. 

“You’ve been _so_ distant! You owe me! Crabbe, Goyle, and that handsome lad Blaise.” She giggled.

“I thought you hated that prat.” His heart raced out of fear he’d bring Nott.

“That was _before_. This is _now_. Keep up, Draco.” She said.

“Not bringing...Nott, is he?” He forced his expression to remain stoic, even though his tongue felt like it was swelling as he said the name.

“Ugh, no. He’s like a weedy little worm. Blaise was right in ditching him.” She said. “You’d _know _that if you weren’t busy being all antisocial.”

“Alright, _fine. _I’ll go.” He resolved. _Maybe they will see that I don’t need their bloody mind healers, after all._

His first appointment was that afternoon. They were going to meet in Professor Snape’s office. _What if this means he knows?_ _Will my father will find out regardless?_

He knocked on Professor Snape’s door with trepidation. He was early for his appointment hoping to catch Snape and beg him not to tell his parents. 

Sure enough, Snape poked his greasy-haired head out of the doorway. “Ah, Mr. Malfoy. Come in. You are early.” He drawled. “The mind healer has not yet arrived.”

Draco sighed in relief as he stepped inside. 

“Professor Snape...I was hoping to catch you.”

“Oh?” Snape’s gaze bore into his like he was reading his mind. 

“Yes. I was hoping you would not...tell my parents about this. I mean, it’s ridiculous anyway. This whole madness. I’m not sick and I certainly do not need some fraud trying to analyze me.” He stated.

Snape furrowed his brows. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” He said vaguely, his tone almost mocking. 

“Please, Professor? You know how my father feels about such things and I hate to have them worry.” He fought to sound sincere.

Snape’s lips curled into an almost smile. “Quite.” He said. “I won’t tell your parents, Mr. Malfoy, _if_ you eat this apple.” He grabbed one off his desk, at random. _Almost like he anticipated this conversation._

Malfoy rolled his eyes and took the apple. He found himself staring at it for far too long. It made his stomach twist into horrible knots. He glanced up at Snape who was staring at him intently again, waiting. He furrowed his brows, determined to get it down. He took in a breath and bit into the apple. It tasted good and he near salivated at the way the juice leaked into his mouth. He had no idea how hungry he was until that moment. After he finished it, he smugly held it up for Snape.

“Very well.” Snape said as he vanished the core.

At that precise moment, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” Snape drawled.

The door opened and a pale, heavy set woman with dirty blond hair, and icy blue eyes bustled in. 

“Hello, you must be Professor Snape.” She said in a rather bubbly tone as she held her hand out to shake his. 

Snape took it with a thin-lipped smile.

“I’m Althea Wilson, nice to meet you, both of you.” 

Snape simply nodded in return.

She turned to Draco, “Oh, you must be Draco Malfoy. My, you look sickly.” She said as she held out her hand. He glared at her hand and then upward.

“I am not sickly.” He insisted, refusing to take her hand.

“Ah, yes. Of course not, dear.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” Snape seemed eager to escape.

He departed quickly.

“Have a seat, Mr. Malfoy.” She insisted. 

He begrudgingly sat down, refusing to speak.

“Now, I have gotten the full report from Madam Pomfrey but I want to hear from you about why you think you are here.” She began.

He glared at her silently.

“Now, Mr. Malfoy, I can’t help you if you don’t allow me to.”

“I don’t need your help. Given your portly stature you are the one that needs help.” He coldly replied. He knew it was a low blow, especially since she was a beautiful woman, but he had to take what he could get.

She had the nerve to _smile_ at his insult. “Interesting choice of deflection, Mr. Malfoy. Do you find someone that is not trim to be unacceptable? Or rather, is that what your parents told you?”

“It is _disgusting._” He hissed, hoping if he was mean enough, she’d quit. “Not to mention unacceptable for any Pureblood.” He paused, “Are you of the right sort?” He inwardly cringed at his words. He sounded just like his father.

She shifted in her chair in obvious discomfort. “I happen to be Muggle-born.” She straightened up, proudly. “Although many Muggles also believe what you were taught about weight, and even differing backgrounds, Malfoy. It is not so different in the Muggle world in regard to discrimination. However, I know it was what you were taught because children are not born hateful. It’s what we call learned behavior.”

Draco had the sense to keep his mouth shut as he merely glared at her. He _hated_ the notion that she had a point. He decided not to speak for the rest of the session. She couldn’t twist his words around if he didn’t speak.

For the rest of his time with her he remained quiet regardless of what she asked.

Once he was dismissed; he left with a sense of accomplishment as she seemed considerably less cheery after he was done with her. 

He headed to the owlery immediately and wrote to his father.

_Father,_

_Dumbledore has it in his head that I need a mind healer. It is ridiculous and embarrassing, especially since the woman is a fat Mudblood. Imagine the embarrassment if that got out._

_-Draco_

He sent it out and immediately felt better about the entire ordeal.

The morning of Hogsmeade he received a reply.

_I will not let you disgrace the family in such a manner. I will take care of it. Since it is imperative you marry the right sort, get closer to Daphne Greengrass._

He frowned at it, his face turning beat red. _So, we are fighting for prestige. _He thought bitterly. He found his gaze falling on the Gryffindor table. They all seemed to be carefree in comparison. _Blood traitors and Mudbloods don’t have to worry about such things. _He crumpled it up and smashed it into his porridge with his spoon. Crabbe perked a brow at him but had the sense not to ask any inane questions.

Later that day, he, Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, and Pansy set off to Hogsmeade. He had no idea why Pansy invited any of them. She and Blaise were blatantly flirting with each other. He felt a twisted sort of jealousy. He wasn’t sure if he liked Pansy like that but he certainly did not like her giving attention to that pretentious git. He may no longer hang around Nott, but he was always a prat to him. He hadn’t seen much of Nott that week. It was surprising since he had just blackmailed him. Then again, he _had_ done a good job at avoiding him.

“Let’s go see the Shrieking Shack.” Draco piped up, desperate to look at something more interesting than Blaise and Pansy flirt.

Pansy made a face. “Ugh. No thanks. You go ahead Draco; Blaise and I will catch you lot later.” She sent a wave and left them in their dust.

Crabbe and Goyle glanced at each other with matching perplexed expressions and then shrugged. 

“Let’s go then.” Draco said to them, not about to show he was bothered in the slightest.

They followed after him obediently.

“Your father get that stupid bird executed yet?” asked Goyle with a sadistic grin.

“Not yet but I should have an owl from Father anytime now. He had to go to the hearing to tell them about my arm and how I couldn’t fully use it for three months. Maybe for Christmas we can have Hippogriff instead of our usual meat!”

Crabbe and Goyle snickered. Draco inwardly cringed.

“I really wish I could hear that great hairy moron trying to defend himself. “There’s no ‘arm in ‘im, ‘onest!” Draco snickered. “That Hippogriff is as good as dead.”

Crabbe and Goyle laughed. Draco’s insides twisted into a pretzel. He wanted that oaf fired but he didn’t want the stupid creature dead.

“Well, you’ve done an awfully good job at avoiding me, Malfoy.” Drawled a voice that made his skin crawl. It was Nott. _Of course, it is._

Draco turned to face him, “Oh no. Did I hurt your poor feelings?” He sneered back.

“Careful. Wouldn’t want anything...unfortunate to get out.” Nott returned with a horribly smug smile. “Shoo, trolls. I need to speak to Malfoy alone.” He waved his hand at them dismissively.

Crabbe and Goyle narrowed their eyes and clenched their fists at their side.

Draco was secretly touched but he did not want them to overhear whatever it was that Nott had to say.

“It’s OK, it will only be a moment.” He said to them.

Crabbe and Goyle hesitated and then headed off.

“Well. Isn’t this nice...catching up.” Nott said smoothly.

Draco rolled his eyes. “What do you want?” He fought to keep his expression stoic. 

“Your decision. Do we have a deal or not?”

Draco smirked, “Considering you haven’t any proof I’m going to have to decline.” 

Nott perked a brow, “Braver than I gave you credit for.” He said as he stepped forward. 

Draco pulled out his wand as he took two steps back. Nott may have caught him off-guard last time but there was no way he was allowing that to happen twice.

“Oh, Malfoy. You really shouldn’t have sent away your bodyguards.” He had a malicious smile that Draco did not fancy one bit. “Now!”

Two large lads rushed him from either side of him at a surprisingly quick speed. As they got closer, he realized it was Lucian Boyle and Peregrine Derrick from the Quidditch team. _No doubt agreeing to it out of revenge for the last game. Even if we did actually win._

“_Petrificus totalus_!” He shot at Boyle.

His body went stiff and he fell over. 

He turned to the other lad. “_Tarantallegra!” _Derrick immediately started dancing uncontrollably instead of running at him.

He turned back to Nott with a smug expression. “Don’t underestimate me.” He growled as he pointed his wand at him threateningly. “You will leave me alone or I will make sure to make your life miserable.”

Nott raised his brows, for a moment, impressed and then smirked. Draco realized after a moment that he didn’t have his wand out. _How odd._ Before he could cast another spell on him his arms were seized from behind. He squirmed but whoever it was proved to be quite strong.

Nott took his time pulling out his wand, “_Expelliarmus!” _Draco’s wand flew out of his hand and into the mud. “_Finite Incantatem!” _He cast to the other two goons. 

Derrick sauntered over first, sneering at Draco menacingly. A few moments later a mud-covered Boyle came over with an enraged expression that he didn’t expect spells to be thrown at him.

“Finally acting like a true Slytherin.” Draco winced at the hot breath in his ear. “But we are two steps ahead of you.” It was Marcus Flint, the captain of the Quidditch team.

“Let me go, you plonker!” Draco desperately tried to free himself from the other bloke’s grip. “What do you want, Nott? I won’t comply. You can beat me or hex me and it won’t matter!” He yelled out, trying to sound braver than he felt.

Nott laughed. “Unnecessary.” He said as he pulled out a camera. “Boyle. Take a picture. Neck up. Don’t let Marcus into the shot.” He instructed.

Draco fought harder to get out of his grasp. His heart pounded out of his chest. _I can’t. He couldn’t! Shit! _

“Only take it when I clearly look like I’m fighting against him as he tries to snog me.” Nott continued as though Draco wasn’t there. 

“Poor Nott. A victim to this muppet’s bent nature!” Laughed Derrick as though he was actually clever.

Draco fought against Marcus as Nott drew in closer. _No no no no. _His mind raced, hating the powerlessness and the utter mortification of the incident. He couldn’t allow it. He couldn’t. His father suddenly came to mind. He was jeering at him after the news went public. ‘_Crucio!_’ His Father would yell. Even though it was all in his head he could still feel the distinct agony that overcame him that day.

He could feel the energy flowing through him and he could almost see the sparks coming from his fingertips like when he and Potter snogged. Except this time, it was different. It was with malignant intent. Then, Marcus unexpectedly let go of him and shot backwards as though struck by lightning. There was a buzzing in his ears that he couldn’t fathom the source. Even Nott was backing up.

Draco took this opportunity to reach down and grab hold of his wand. He started to run as fast as he could.

“Get him!” Nott shouted, after a moment. 

Draco turned, throwing the same stinging curses his father inflicted on him. He could feel several stinging hexes in return. He let out a hiss of pain but managed to keep moving. 

“_Stuplify! Stuplify! Stuplify!” _He missed Marcus by a hair but he managed to get both Boyle and Derrick, knocking them both over and into Nott. He took the opportunity to break out into a full run without looking back. A few hexes zoomed by his ear but he was faster than Marcus and they both knew it.

He was out of breath once he made it all the way back down to the shops. He slipped into the crowd at Zonko’s and caught his breath. _That was bloody close._

“What’s the matter, Malfoy? Antagonize another Hippogriff?” He turned. It was Weasel. _I am never going to another Hogsmeade again. _

“Of course not. Especially since the one your oaf loves so much will soon be dead.” Draco sneered back.

Dean Thomas managed to hold back Weasel back while Draco let out a laugh and moved further back into the depth of the store. 

He pretended to examine different items closely as he contemplated what had happened by the Shrieking Shack. Marcus had let go of him so suddenly. He couldn’t explain that. Given his perplexed expression; it was not because he took pity on him. _Then what was it? The sparks? Impossible. All of it is impossible. But then what?_

Whatever it was; it saved him from blackmail and mortifying him and if it got out, his entire family.

When he believed that he was safe, he slipped out of the shop and headed back to the castle. Once he cleansed himself of the dirt and humiliation, he slipped under his covers. _I need to come up with a plan. A good plan. _They wanted to make it look like they had proof that he was bent. Well, perhaps it was time he got a girlfriend. 

_It’s not like I am bent._ He told himself. _Whatever happened with Potter was just a fluke. His father has said to get close to Daphne Greengrass. He hadn’t considered it before but now he realized he had to actually try. H_e gulped, his palms sweating profusely. He was as suave with woman as a toad. _Salazar help me. _

That following Monday, Professor Snape called him into his office. 

“Sit down, Mr. Malfoy.” He drawled out.

He sat down obediently.

“So, it was brought to my attention that you performed magic outside of the classroom against Mr. Flint, Mr. Boyle, and Mr. Derrick. Quite ambitious, I’d say.” 

Draco’s face ran hot as it reddened. “They had been attacking me! I defended myself!” He exclaimed loudly.

“Your Quidditch teammates?” He asked disbelievingly.

“Yes! They’re mad I played so lousy the last game.” He paused, taking note of Nott’s absence in said report. _He was always one to be behind the scenes. _He thought irritably.

“Hmm. Quite.” He said lazily. “Also surprised to hear that you no longer require sessions with the mind healer.” His tone suggested that he was not surprised in the slightest.

“Told you they made a mistake.” Draco said with a hidden sneer. _At least something is going right. _

“Yes. I’m sure it had nothing to do with your father.” Snape smoothly replied.

Draco twitched but said nothing.

“Nothing I can do there. And since there is no actual proof of foul play other than word of mouth; I won’t be punishing you. I will warn you, though to be careful and don’t allow anyone to put one over you. Other professors are less inclined to believe you and punish you proof or not. Especially if it pertains to _certain_ individuals. I daresay you stick to what I taught you your first year. Can’t get in trouble if you are simply disarming someone trying to harm you.” He said.

Draco nodded his head, his expression remaining stoic despite his racing thoughts.

“You are dismissed.” 

He didn’t hesitate to leave his office, his mind reeling. 

_So. All I need to do to survive the rest of this year is to try to court a girl, avoid Nott and his goons, avoid Potter, win the Quidditch Cup, and help father bring back the Dark Lord. Grand. What in Salazar’s name could go wrong?_ He inwardly groaned at the endless possibilities.


	12. The foreboding prediction.

They were endlessly disappointed by the fact that they couldn’t find any answers. They were distracted, however, by a parchment Neville received at breakfast one morning.

_Dear Neville, Hermione, and Seamus,_

_How about having tea with me this afternoon ‘round six? I’ll come collect you from the castle. Wait for me in the entrance hall; you’re not allowed out on your own._

_Cheers,_

_Hagrid_

“Wonder what it’s about?” Neville mused.

“Well, we haven’t seen him in ages.” Hermione pointed out.

At six o’clock that afternoon, Hermione, Seamus, and Neville left Gryffindor Tower, passed the security trolls, and headed down to the entrance hall.

Hagrid was already waiting for them.

“All right, Hagrid?” said Seamus. 

“No but let’s not talk ‘bout it til yeh get there.”

The first thing they saw upon entering Hagrid’s cabin was Buckbeak, who was stretched out on top of Hagrid’s patchwork quilt, his enormous wings folded tight to his body, enjoying a large plate of dead ferrets. Averting his eyes from this unpleasant sight, Harry saw a gigantic, hairy brown suit and a very horrible yellow-and-orange tie hanging from the top of Hagrid’s wardrobe door.

“What are they for, Hagrid?” Asked Neville.

“Buckbeak’s case against the Committee fer the Disposal o’ Dangerous Creatures,” said Hagrid. “This Friday. Him an’ me’ll be goin’ down ter London together. I’ve booked two beds on the Knight Bus...”

Neville felt a nasty pang of guilt. With everything that was going on he had had completely forgotten that Buckbeak’s trial was so near and judging by the uneasy look on Hermione and Seamus’ faces, they had too. They had also forgotten their promise about helping him prepare Buckbeak’s defense; their own problems had driven it clear out of their minds.

Hagrid poured them tea and offered them a plate of Bath buns but they knew better than to accept; they had had too much experience with Hagrid’s cooking.

“I got somethin’ ter discuss with you three,” said Hagrid, sitting himself between them and looking uncharacteristically serious.

“What?” said Neville. “Ron,” said Hagrid. “What about him?” said Hermione stiffly.

“He’s in a righ’ state, that’s what. He’s bin comin’ down ter visit me a lot since Chris’mas. Bin feelin’ lonely. Upset yeh took Hermione’s side an’ all.”

“Crookshanks was acting like a cat!” Hermione retorted.

“Yes I understand tha’ but yeh have to see his point of view. He jus’ lost his pet an’ then feelin’ like he lost all his good friends. He is a good lad. Still found time ter help me with Buckbeak’s case. Sharp lad, that. He don’ get enough credit though. He’s found some really good stuff fer me. I reckon he’ll stand a good chance now...”

“Hagrid, we should’ve helped as well —sorry—” Neville began awkwardly.

“I’m not blamin’ yeh!” said Hagrid, waving Neville’s apology aside. “Godric knows yeh’ve had enough ter be getting’ on with with Pettigrew an’ everythin’. I gotta tell yeh, I thought you two’d value yer friend more’n that. Tha’s all.”

The three of them exchanged uncomfortable looks.

“I do feel bad about what Crookshanks did...it’s just. I don’t know what to do.” Hermione sounded despondent. “I wanted to talk to him after the attack—I—I don’t know what to do he won’t talk to me unless I get rid of Crookshanks and I just can’t do that!”

“Ah, well, people can be a bit stupid abou’ their pets,” said Hagrid wisely. 

Behind him, Buckbeak spat a few ferret bones onto Hagrid’s pillow.

They spent the rest of their visit discussing light topics. At nine o’clock, Hagrid walked them back up to the castle.

A bunch of students were gathered around the bulletin board when they arrived.

“Hogsmeade next weekend” Ron stated in a lackluster tone. Neville felt a pang of guilt at the sadness in his tone.

“Whatta reckon?” Seamus asked Neville, clearly trying not to glance at Dean hanging about with Parvati. 

“I’m out. I mean, even if I go without the map, I don’t have an invisibility cloak. It’s too risky.”

“You’re right, mate. We’ll find something to do.”

“No. Go in with Hermione, just bring me some sweets.” Neville insisted. 

“Well, alright. Let me know if you change your mind.” Seamus said.

The next week was a long one. It was the last Hogsmeade of school term and he was missing it. Not only that but they couldn’t find anything more to save Buckbeak nor that could explain his burst of explosive magic. He was beginning to think it was a fluke. He never told them about the strange surges that occurred when he and Harry made physical contact with each other. _It must be a fluke too._ He thought a bit sadly.

The day of Hogsmeade he nearly didn’t bother getting out of bed. Hunger was his true motivation to head down to the Great Hall where Seamus and Hermione promises to bring him back loads of sweets with guilty expressions.

Just as they were leaving Neville was seized by the arm by an invisible force that he recognized as Harry’s by the tingle of magic that surged through him as though no time had passed. He was quickly pulled into an empty classroom to roughly he nearly fell over. 

He yanked himself free as Harry finally showed himself.

“_What_ are you doing? Can’t you tell me you need to talk like a normal person?” Neville hissed quietly.

“No, you prat you’ve taken care to ignore me entirely. I get why. Malfoy and all. Honestly, he—he’s not as bad as you think. He warned me about Pettigrew but there wasn’t much to be done about that, was there?”

“You could have told Dumbledore! Are you so bent on saving the world yourself? If someone got hurt then that would be on you, wouldn’t it?” Neville shook his head. “Did you drag me here just to tell me all that? Because honestly, you needn’t bother.”

“I had no proof other than Malfoy’s word and honestly after everything it’s hard to trust him, isn’t it? But no, that’s not why. I saw Pettigrew on the map here.”

He pulled it out and pointed his wand at it. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” 

What was once blank became a giant diagram of the castle and those who inhabited it.

“I saw him here.” He pointed right by the secret Hogsmeade entrance by the Whomping Willow. 

Neville glanced over the other lad’s shoulder. “I don’t see anything.” He remarked.

“I _know that_! Just. He’s in the castle. Somewhere!” Harry said, exasperated. “We have to find him!”

Neville blinked; certain he had gone completely mad. “And if we do find him what exactly do you reckon we do to best a powerful wizard? If you truly see him, we need to go straight to Dumbledore!”

“And say what? I used this map that no one knows about happen to see his name near one of the secret passageways to Hogsmeade?” Harry snickered. “Then we end up expelled and attempting to explain to our guardians why. Oh, and then they trace the maps back to Fred and George and they get expelled too. Great plan, Nev. Bravo.”

Neville grit his teeth irritably. “Fine. Point made. But you still haven’t revealed what we’d do if we caught him.”

“This is precisely why we are going to be invisible. He won’t see it coming.” Harry stated. 

“Fine.” It was a cunning plan, after all. He still didn’t like the thought of keeping it from the adults. _Harry has a point, though._

They both kept their eyeballs glued to the map, looking for his name and making sure that none of the professors were heading their way.

Hours passed and nothing showed up.

“Harry...maybe he left.”

“Why would he do that? Why wouldn’t he just…” He let out a frustrated growl.

“Harry—are you OK?” He seemed quite on edge.

“Just perfect.” He hissed.

“Did something happen?” Neville hated that he still cared.

“No!” He snapped.

Neville frowned. “Harry if you need to talk—”

“Oh, shut up.” He grumbled.

Neville decided to drop it for now. He did a double take as he glanced again at the map. The name Peter Pettigrew was right by the secret entrance they used during the last Hogsmeade weekend.

“I see him! Look! There!” He pointed at the map animatedly.

He and Harry exchanged a look before Harry pulled the invisibility cloak over them. Neville held it in place while Harry led them through the corridors towards the name. From what he could see, Pettigrew was heading toward the dungeons for reasons he couldn’t quite fathom. 

“He’s getting away!” Harry exclaimed loudly as he pulled himself out of the invisibility cloak. “Follow after me! I know my way down here with my eyes shut.”

“What if he sees you first?” Neville returned, biting down hard on his lower lip. _He’s being so reckless! _He was more than a little bit terrified for him.

“Well that’s why you better keep up so you can hide us both!”

“There’s so much wrong with that plan, Harry!” He yelled back.

Harry had already stopped abruptly and he hurried behind him to cover him but not before Professor Snape came into view. Neville had already pulled off the invisibility cloak so he threw it on a nearby knight in a panic.

He heard Harry utter, “Mischief Managed” under his breath and tucked away the map before the professor approached. 

“What are you two doing down here? Going to take Mr. Longbottom on a tour of the Slytherin Common Room, Potter?” Snape sneered.

“Yes. I often take Gryffindors on a tour of the Slytherin Common Room. Normally I charge them but for the boy who lives it’s free.” Harry retorted.

Neville had to suppress a laugh despite the seriousness of the situation.

If looks could kill; he was certain Snape’s would. His uneven, yellowish teeth were barred.

“Turn out your pockets, both of you!”

Neville took out what little was in his pockets but Harry didn’t move. Neville’s ears were pounding.

“Turn out your pockets, or we go straight to the headmaster! Pull them out, Potter!”

“Just do it.” Neville hissed in a low tone.

Harry pulled the Marauder’s Map out of his pockets. Snape grabbed it from him and stared at it.

“What is this?”

“Spare bit of parchment.” Harry resounded quickly.

Snape turned it over, his eyes on Harry.

“Surely you don’t need such an _old _piece of parchment?” He said. “Why don’t I just—throw it away.”

“No!” Harry said quickly.

“So!” Said Snape, his nostrils quivering. “What is this? A letter, perhaps, written in invisible ink? Or instructions to get into Hogsmeade without passing dementors?

Neville clutched bits of his cloak in his hands anxiously.

“Let me see, let me see…” He muttered, taking out his wand and touching it against the piece of parchment. “Reveal your secret!” 

Nothing happened. Neville was wringing his hands to stop them from shaking.

“Show yourself!” Snape said, tapping the map sharply.

It remained blank. Neville noticed that even Harry was taking slightly shaky breaths.

“Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!” Snape said as he poked the map with his wand.

As though an invisible hand were writing upon it, words appeared on the smooth surface of the map.

Snape started to read it out loud. “Mooney presents his compliments to Professor Snape and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people’s business.”

Snape froze. Harry and Neville exchanged looks, dumbstruck by the message. But the map didn’t stop there. More writing appeared beneath the first.

Snape continued to read. “Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Mooney and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git.”

It would have been very funny if the situation hadn’t been so dire. Unfortunately, there was more.

“Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor.”

Neville shut his eyes, horrified, as Snape insisted on reading more of it.

“_Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slime ball_.”

Snape’s nostrils flared dangerously. “To my office. _Both_ of you. I might not have found anything on Longbottom but no doubt you two are in cahoots.”

Neville and Harry exchanged glances and then followed after Professor Snape. Neville managed to pull the invisibility cloak off the knight and shove it in his cloak before he left.

“Sit.” Snape demanded.

Neville and Harry immediately sat down on the green leather chairs in front of Professor Snape’s desk.

Snape strode across to his fire, seized a fistful of glittering powder from a jar on the fireplace, and threw it into the flames.

“Lupin!” Snape called into the fire. “I want a word!”

Neville narrowed his eyes as he stared into the fire. A large shape had appeared in it, revolving very fast. Seconds later, Professor Lupin was clambering out of the fireplace, brushing ash off his shabby robes.

“You called, Severus?” said Lupin mildly.

“I certainly did,” said Snape, his face contorted with fury as he strode back to his desk. “I have just asked Longbottom and Potter to empty their pockets. Potter was carrying this.”

Snape pointed at the parchment, on which the words of Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were still shining. An odd, closed expression appeared on Lupin’s face.

“Well?” said Snape.

Lupin continued to stare at the map. Neville had the impression that Lupin was doing some very quick thinking.

“Well?” said Snape again. “This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?”

Lupin looked up and, by the merest half-glance in Harry’s direction, warned him not to interrupt. Neville was perplexed by the entire thing.

“Full of Dark Magic?” he repeated mildly. “Do you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who reads it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry got it from a joke shop —”

“Indeed?” said Snape. His jaw had gone rigid with anger. “You think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing? You don’t think it more likely that he got it directly from the manufacturers?”

Neville and Harry exchanged a confused glance. He didn’t understand what Snape was talking about. Nor, apparently, did Lupin.

“You mean, by Mr. Wormtail or one of these people?” he said. “Harry, do you know any of these men?”

“No,” said Harry quickly.

“How about you, Neville?”

Neville shook his head quickly.

“You see, Severus?” said Lupin, turning back to Snape. “It looks like a Zonko product to me.”

“Very well. I will be _watching_ your every move. _Both of you._” Snape hissed.

Neville and Harry could only nod their heads.

“If you are done making unfounded accusations, Severus, I need a word with these two about my vampire essay. Excuse us, Severus—”

Neville didn’t dare look at Snape as they left his office. He, Harry, and Lupin walked all the way back into the entrance hall before speaking.

Then Harry turned to Lupin. “Lupin, I—”

“I don’t want to hear explanations,” said Lupin shortly. He glanced around the empty entrance hall and lowered his voice.

“I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it’s a map,” he said as Neville and Harry looked amazed. “I don’t want to know how it fell into your possession. I am, however, astounded that you didn’t hand it in. I will be letting Sirius know about this.” Neville paled, afraid he’d tell Gran, even if the map wasn’t his.

No, Neville. I won’t tell your Gran since it is not yours.” He turned to Harry, “However, I can’t let you have it back.”

Neville had expected that much. Harry seemed to have something else on his mind. 

“Why did Snape think I’d got it from the manufacturers?”

“Because...” Lupin hesitated, “because these mapmakers would have wanted to lure you out of school. They’d think it extremely entertaining.”

“Do you know them?” said Harry, impressed.

“We’ve met,” he said shortly. He was looking at Harry more seriously than ever before.

Neville had the feeling there was far more to the story than given to them. 

“Don’t expect me to cover up for either of you. I cannot make you two take Peter Pettigrew seriously. But Neville, I would have thought that what you have heard when the dementors draw near you would have had more of an effect on you. Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive. And you, Harry. Your parents gave up their minds so that you may live. A poor way to repay them—gambling their sacrifices for a bag of magic tricks.”

He walked away, leaving Neville feeling worse by far than he had at any point in Snape’s office. 

Slowly, he and Harry mounted the marble staircase

“Hey, did you—have you seen my invisibility cloak?” Harry asked finally as they made their way to the library.

Neville pulled it out and handed it over wordlessly.

“Thanks.” Harry said. “Look. I’m sorry I got you caught up in this. Really thought I saw his name there.” He sighed.

“It’s OK, Harry. I believe you. We will have to find another way. Without the map.”

“Right.” Harry stated.

They stared at each other for several awkward moments. 

Hermione and surprisingly Ron approached them just then. 

Ron was holding a letter in his hands and Hermione stood beside him, her lip was trembling.

“I just thought you ought to know that Hagrid lost his case. Buckbeak is going to get executed.”

“He-he sent me this.” Ron said, holding out the letter.

Harry took it and Neville read it over his shoulder.

_Dear Ron,_

_We lost. I’m allowed to bring him back to Hogwarts. Execution date to be fixed. Beaky has enjoyed London. I won’t forget all the help you gave us._

_Hagrid _

“They can’t do this! They can’t! Buckbeak is innocent!” Harry explained, outraged.

Neville’s mind raced but he couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“Malfoy’s dad’s frightened the Committee into it…” Hermione was saying.

Neville had tuned them out. _If we hadn’t been so focused, we could have helped Ron more. What do we do now? How could we allow this to happen? _

A loud, tearful Hermione jolted him out of his thoughts. “…I’m really, really sorry about Scabbers!”

Hermione’s arms were flung around Ron’s neck as she sobbed. Ron looked quite terrified by the whole thing and Harry was smirking in amusement.

“It’s...OK. I—these things happen.” Ron awkwardly replied. “He was a bit useless anyway. Maybe now mum and dad will get me a proper owl”

Ron and Hermione were friends again after that. Seamus wasn’t too pleased about it. They caught Ron up with everything going on, which warranted a “bloody hell” from him.

Neville exchanged an eye roll with Seamus when Ron’s back was turned.

“We were aces with just the three of us. Ron is an annoying prat. He went off with Dean hitting on the Patil twins. I hate them.” Seamus ranted as they headed off to their dormitory after making some obscure excuse not to go to the library with them. 

Neville sent him a sympathetic look. He knew how that felt. Harry was avoiding him again ever since the incident with the map. Except he couldn’t figure out what he had done. 

They stopped in front of the fat lady portrait. “He’s missing out, mate.” Seamus said as he put a hand on his shoulder. 

It was there again; an overwhelming sense of comfort and warmth. He shrugged it off. 

“Thanks, mate.” He said.

Seamus said the password and granted them inside. They headed straight to the dormitory.

“Are you staying for Easter holiday?” Neville asked as they sat down on the floor.

“Nah. Me mam is getting nervous about Pettigrew still being out. Thinks she ought to keep an eye out on me when she can.” He explained. “What about you, mate?”

“No. Lupin and Sirius is going home so apparently it’s not safe enough here for me.” He sighed. “I’d rather stay here than be around Harry all holiday.”

Seamus frowned. “Why don’t you woo him or something?”

“I don’t know...I’m not very good at that sort of thing.” Neville said with flushed cheeks.

“Sure, you are! You just have to…” he froze. “Oh, sod it. I don’t know how woo anyone, regardless of gender!”

They both started cracking up.

“Plus, you used the word woo…quite sure they haven’t used that phrase in at least a hundred years.” Neville teased with a sly grin.

“Oh, shut up, you.” Seamus used “_wingardium leviosa_” to levitate a pillow in the air and chucked it at Neville, hitting him square in the head. 

“You git!” Neville laughed. 

He stood to his feet and levitated a pillow of his own and chucked it back at Seamus. Soon they were floating their pillows and smashed them together in midair.

“You will never take me alive!” Seamus shouted as he levitated a pillow at Neville from behind a fort of stacked pillows, he commandeered from his fellow dorm mates.

Neville ducked from behind his own fort of pillows. He levitated his own back. Seamus ducked again. Then he picked up two pillows by hand and ran at Neville while shouting loudly and smacked him on either side of his head.

“Ack!” Neville ended up on the ground as Seamus continued to hit him.

Neville raised his hands up, “I surrender, I surrender!” He exclaimed between wheezing laughter.

He finally stopped hitting him, but remained hovering over him, breathlessly. On the spur of the moment, Neville wrapped his arms around his mate’s waist and pulled him down with him.

“Aggg!” He let out. “Geroff me, gerroff me!” Neville was nearly in hysterics but finally let go. Seamus rolled off him and laid on his back both of them continuing to laugh loudly.

When Dean came in with Ron, and Liam, demanding to know what happened, Seamus and Neville could only laugh harder. Then an all-out pillow war broke out between them and the rest of their dorm-mates . 

Seamus dubbed it, “A war to end all wars!”

Easter holiday was awkward. Harry blasted that Muggle band, Nirvana at all hours after he found out the main band member, Kurt Cobain had committed suicide earlier that month on April 5th.

“It was that horrible slag, Courtney Love. She killed him. She was always bringing him down. She arranged it.” Harry insisted.

Neville had no idea what to say about it. _If the Muggle police said that it was suicide, wouldn’t that be it? _He didn’t dare to say that out loud.

“There’s no way he could have pulled the trigger with that much heroin in his system!” He shouted one day at dinner, his fist banging against the table and the lights flickering madly. Even the plates rumbled beneath them.

“Harry…” Lupin warned.

“What? You think because he was a Muggle, he’s not important? His music…” He growled as he stood to his feet.

“Harry! Sit down.” Sirius demanded. “That is certainly not the case. Please. Sit down.”

“Leave me alone!” He stomped off to his room and mostly refused to come out of his room for the rest of the holiday. 

Neville did not have time to worry too much. He had quite a bit of studying to do. The stress of it all caused numerous near breakdowns by the end of the holiday.

The Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch Final took place on the first Saturday after the Easter holidays. Slytherin was leading the tournament by exactly two hundred points so they had to win the match by more than that in order to win the Quidditch Cup. Neville was quite preoccupied with studying for the finals but Seamus convinced him that he _had_ to go.

They cheered on the Gryffindors as they played. He secretly hoped someone would knock Malfoy off his broom.

Soon Neville found himself getting rather into the game. Angelina scored, making the score sixty-ten. Moments later, Fred Weasley pelted a Bludger at Warrington, knocking the Quaffle out of his hands; Alicia seized it and put it through the Slytherin goal—seventy-ten. Neville and the rest of the Gryffindor crowd below were screaming themselves hoarse. Gryffindor was sixty points in the lead, so if their Seeker catches the Snitch now, the Cup was theirs. 

He spotted Harry of the Slytherin team, put on a huge burst of speed toward the Snitch. They all booed him. Harry stretched out his hand, with the Gryffindor Seeker close behind, but just then Malfoy ran into him. The crowd gasped in surprise. Harry nearly lost balance off his broom. He appeared to enraged enough that he looked like he was out to hit Malfoy. He just now noticed that he appeared pale and sickly. His eyes had widened on his tiny, angled face. Neville thought he looked quite emancipated. He separated from Harry immediately, with a mortified and bewildered expression. By this time the Snitch had disappeared again. 

“Slytherin in possession, Slytherin heading for goal—Montague scores—” Lee groaned. “Seventy-twenty to Gryffindor...” 

Time slowed down as Neville spotted the Grim in the crowd on the Slytherin side. It seemed to stare at him intently, like a warning beacon. _What does it all mean? _He found himself wondering. Then in an instant, he was gone and time seemed to return to normal.

“We’ve won the Cup! We’ve won the Cup!” Seamus was shouting beside him. “Come on!” 

He let Seamus drag him onto the field by the arm. Wave upon wave of crimson supporters was pouring over the barriers onto the field. Hands were raining down on their backs. Neville was still searching for the Grim, even as everyone else celebrated. His whoops sounded strangled in the crowd. _Am I going to die soon? _It was obvious that he was the only one to have seen it.

Everyone else continued to celebrate as though nothing was happening. There was Percy, jumping up and down like a maniac, all dignity forgotten. Professor McGonagall was sobbing harder even than Wood, wiping her eyes with an enormous Gryffindor flag. He watched as the Gryffindor Quidditch team made their way toward the stands where Dumbledore stood waiting with the enormous Quidditch Cup. He tried to be as joyful as everyone else but it was like all of his energy was sucked out as though a dementor camped inside of his soul.

He wanted to tell them what happened but the Gryffindors were in such high spirits that week that he didn’t want to burden them with it. He considered telling Harry, since he was the only one to have seen it before, but he was just as focused on his studies as he was. Exams were nearly upon them and everyone was working hard to pass everything. Even Fred and George Weasley had been spotted working; they were about to take their O.W.L.s (Ordinary Wizarding Levels). Percy was getting ready to take his N.E.W.T.s (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests), the highest qualification Hogwarts offered. As Percy hoped to enter the Ministry of Magic, he needed top grades. He was becoming increasingly edgy and gave very severe punishments to anybody who disturbed the quiet of the common room in the evenings.

As they entered June, the days became cloudless and sultry, all anybody felt like doing was strolling onto the grounds and flopping down on the grass with several pints of iced pumpkin juice, perhaps playing a casual game of Gobstones or watching the giant squid propel itself dreamily across the surface of the lake. But exams had arrived so they were trapped inside doing last minute studying.

They had Potions that afternoon, which was an unqualified disaster. Try as Neville might, he couldn’t get his Confusing Concoction to thicken, and Snape, standing watch with an air of vindictive pleasure, scribbled something that looked suspiciously like a zero onto his notes before moving away. Seamus didn’t fare much better but neither of them had blown up their cauldrons, which was quite a feat.

Then came Astronomy at midnight, up on the tallest tower; History of Magic on Wednesday morning, in which Neville scribbled everything Florean Fortescue had ever told him about medieval witch-hunts. Wednesday afternoon meant Herbology, in the greenhouses under a baking-hot sun. It was the only subject that Neville had full confidence in thus far. He swore, hours after History of Magic, that he had forgotten something important. Hermione reassured him once he dictated what he wrote but still. _What if I forgot something in my head?_

Their second to last exam, on Thursday morning, was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lupin had compiled the most unusual exam any of them had ever taken; a sort of obstacle course outside in the sun, where they had to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a Grindylow, cross a series of potholes full of Red Caps, squish their way across a patch of marsh while ignoring misleading directions from a Hinkypunk, then climb into an old trunk and battle with a new Boggart. “Excellent, Neville,” Lupin muttered as he climbed out of the trunk, grinning. “Full marks.” 

Flushed with his success, Neville hung around to watch Seamus, Ron and Hermione. Ron did very well until he reached the Hinkypunk, which successfully confused him into sinking waist-high into the quagmire. Seamus was brilliant as ever even with the slight mishap of blowing up one of the potholes of Red Caps out of frustration after tripping over it. 

Hermione did everything perfectly until she reached the trunk with the Boggart in it. After about a minute inside it, she burst out again, screaming. “Hermione!” said Lupin, startled. “What’s the matter?”

“P-P-Professor McGonagall!” Hermione gasped, pointing into the trunk. “Sh-she said I’d failed everything!” It took a little while to calm Hermione down. 

When at last she had regained a grip on herself, they went back to the castle. Ron laughed at Hermione’s Boggart which made her burst into tears and Seamus told him where he could shove his laughter. Ron huffed off to speak with Dean, which they were grateful for. Hermione, overwhelmed with emotion, hugged him tightly on the spot. He patted her back awkwardly, clearly clueless on how to handle the situation. 

Their last exam was Divination. Neville, Hermione, and Seamus walked up the marble staircase together all the way up to the seventh, where many of their class were sitting on the spiral staircase to Professor Trelawney’s classroom, trying to cram in a bit of last-minute studying.

“She’s seeing us all separately,” Harry informed them as they went to sit down. 

The line of people outside the classroom shortened very slowly. As each person climbed back down the silver ladder, the rest of the class hissed, “What did she ask? Was it okay?” But they all refused to say. “She says the crystal balls told her that if I tell you, I’ll have a horrible accident!” Lavender said urgency as she clambered back down the ladder. 

“That’s convenient,” snorted Ron from a distance. “I think she’s a right old fraud.” 

Neville secretly agreed but he was still upset he mocked Hermione before so he didn’t say anything. Seamus’s glare suggested he had not forgiven him either.

Parvati came back down the ladder glowing with pride. “She says I’ve got all the makings of a true Seer,” she informed Dean, who was near them. “I saw loads of stuff... Well, good luck!” She kissed him on the cheek and headed off.

Finally, it was Seamus’ turn. After a bit, he came out fuming. Neville didn’t have to ask to know it went terrible.

“I’d say she’s lost the plot but I don’t think she ever had one to begin with!” He exclaimed before storming off.

Neville entered after him with trepidation. The tower room was hotter than ever before; the curtains were closed, the fire was alight, and the usual sickly scent made Neville cough as he stumbled through the clutter of chairs and tables to where Professor Trelawney sat waiting for him before a large crystal ball. 

“Good day, my dear,” she said softly. “If you would kindly gaze into the Orb. Take your time, now...then tell me what you see within it...” 

Neville bent over the crystal ball and gazed into it, trying to figure out what to say. _How am I going to pass this exam?_ He wondered with growing anxiety. He willed it to show him something other than swirling white fog, but nothing happened.

“Well?” Professor Trelawney prompted delicately. “What do you see?” The heat was overpowering and his nostrils were stinging with the perfumed smoke wafting from the fire beside them. 

He supposed if he made up something good, he could pass. “Er---” He said. “A dark shape…”

“What does it resemble?” whispered Professor Trelawney. “Think now…”

Neville thought of Buckbeak first. _I hope the appeal will go alright._ He shook himself out of it, realizing she was awaiting his answer. 

"I think it’s the Grim.” He gulped, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. 

She gasped and clutched her chest in fear. He supposed, he didn’t have to lie, after all.

“My poor, poor boy. Say no more.” She dismissed him.

_At least I will probably get full marks for the class._

Neville waited around for Hermione. She went after Harry who exited in a fit of rage, much like Seamus. He stopped beside Neville. 

“Such bullshit! Such utter rubbish!” He ranted.

“I know, mate. I said mine was the Grim and she seemed to have passed me with flying colours.” Neville informed him.

He slapped his hand against his head. “Oh shit. Why didn’t I think of that? Brilliant!” 

Neville flushed red. He was about to say something when Hermione appeared in a frantic state, a crystal ball rolling out of her grip and onto the floor. 

“Hermione!” He called after her. 

She did not stop.

Harry stared at the crystal ball and then Neville. “Should we take it with us?”

Neville perked a brow, “And do what with it? Play Quidditch? We should return it.” He said with a roll of the eyes.

“Fine. You are no fun.” Harry grumbled as they headed up to her classroom. “I don’t need supervision. I am not going to do anything.” He said after a few.

“I know that, git. I want to tell her off for making Hermione cry!” He exclaimed.

“Aw. You in love with Hermione, are you?” Harry teased, though there was a storminess in his emerald green eyes.

“No! She’s my friend!” He returned quickly. He was tempted to lie in hope of making him jealous but decided against it. _That sort of thing always backfires._

“Yes, dears? What can I help you with?” Professor Trelawny said in a clearly ruffled tone.

“We found this and was just returning it.” Harry said as he approached the desk.

“Why did you make Hermione cry?” Neville demanded.

“I am not sure what she is so upset about. I merely informed her that she was not naturally inclined toward being able to see into the beyond. Her small-mindedness prevents her from seeing anything past her nose.” 

Neville curled his hands into fists angrily. The atmosphere became tense and static with charged power.

“Neville. It’s not worth it.” Harry’s touch sent a jolt through him that shocked him out of it.

He nodded as they turned around.

A loud, harsh voice spoke behind them. “IT WILL HAPPEN THIS COMING FULL MOON.” Neville and Harry wheeled around. Professor Trelawney had gone rigid in her armchair; her eyes were unfocused and her mouth sagging. 

“S—sorry?” said Harry. 

But Professor Trelawney didn’t seem to hear him. Her eyes started to roll. Neville felt a sense of panic wash over him. She looked as though she was about to have some sort of seizure. Neville hesitated, thinking of running to the hospital wing—and then Professor Trelawney spoke again, in the same harsh voice, quite unlike her own.

“THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. BEFORE MIDNIGHT ON THE NEXT FULL MOON THE SERVANT WILL SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT’S AID, GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. THE SERVANT...WILL SET OUT...TO REJOIN...HIS MASTER…”

Professor Trelawney’s head fell forward onto her chest. She made a grunting sort of noise. Neville and Harry exchanged horrified glances. 

Then, quite suddenly, Professor Trelawney’s head snapped up again. 

“I’m so sorry, lads,” she said dreamily, “the heat of the day, you know...I drifted off for a moment...” Neville sent her a bewildered look. 

“Is there anything wrong, my dear?” 

“You—you just told us that the—the Dark Lord’s going to rise again...that his servant’s going back to him.” Neville said softly.

Professor Trelawney looked thoroughly startled.

“The Dark Lord? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Rise again? His servant will return to him? That’s hardly something to joke about, Mr. Longbottom.” 

“I heard it too and it’s not a joke!” Harry said in a heated tone.

“I think you two dozed off as well. I would certainly not presume to predict anything quite as far-fetched as _that_!”

Neville could feel the energy radiating from the other lad.

“Come on, Harry.” He hissed in a low tone.

He sent another angry glance toward Professor Trelawney, who appeared to be quite baffled and then followed Neville out of the classroom. They climbed back down the ladder and the spiral staircase. _Had they just heard Professor Trelawney make a real prediction? _He couldn’t help but wonder.

“Meet me in the classroom that had the mirror. I need to grab the map and my cloak.” Harry shakily stated once they were far enough away from the classroom.

Neville nodded his head and hurried off to the Gryffindor common room to look for Hermione and Seamus. They were sitting on the couch, chatting in low voices. For a moment he paused, hating to pull them in and place such a heavy burden on them. At the same time, he knew they wouldn’t forgive him if he didn’t.

“Neville?” Hermione was standing. He blinked rapidly, realizing he must have frozen in place.

“What’s wrong, mate?” chimed in Seamus.

“Have to meet Harry in the classroom…” he spoke barely above a whisper.

“What is going on?” Asked Hermione with concern in her voice.

“Just come…” he turned, heading out whether they were with him or not.

He was, however, relieved to hear footsteps behind him.

Once they arrived Seamus scowled. “What is he doing here?”

“Don’t get your knickers in a wad, Finnigan. Neville and I have something to tell you.”

Seamus was about to say something more but Neville sent him a cutting look. _Now isn’t the time to fight with each other._

He and Harry dove into the entire tale, detailing what had happened and what Professor Trelawney had predicted.

They stood in stunned silence for a long moment.

“The next full moon?” Seamus said after a moment. “Didn’t Trelawney say that was June 23rd?”

“She did.” Hermione confirmed, her face paling. “Today is the sixth. That’s less than a month away.”

“Do you think...do you think she’s for real then?” Seamus spoke up.

“It appeared quite real to me. She didn’t even remember anything afterwards.” Harry replied in a raspy tone.

“Yeah. It was...horrific. Very real.” Neville agreed.

“Servant meet their master...do you think she meant Pettigrew?” Seamus spoke after a beat.

“Yeah, I think so. Plus, we saw Pettigrew...on the map we no longer have.” Harry let out a groan.

“It’s ok. We will find another way.” Hermione stated.

They nodded their heads in agreement but didn’t speak._ We better find another way. Even if we do—how will we do that? Using the invisibility cloak like we discussed before? What about once we reveal ourselves? Well, we better figure it out quickly. We are running out of time._


	13. The boy without a choice.

Draco’s plans to become involved with Daphne Greengrass was not going well. She never traveled alone. Tracey Davis, who giggles more than anyone he had ever met, was always trailing with her. She quickly made Draco’s top five list of the most annoying people he had the displeasure of meeting. 

The one time he caught Daphne alone, the conversation was lackluster, to say the least.

“Hello…” He spoke without finesse.

She sent him a scrutinizing look. “Draco.”

“I’m on the Quidditch team. The final is after Easter Break.” He blurted out.

The charm, manipulation, and schmoozing his parents drilled into him from a young age seemed to have temporarily leaked out of his brain.

“I know.” She said coolly.

“Right. Well.”

She gave a strained smile and then turned to her left. “Oh hello, Tracey!” She said. “See you around.” She rushed after her friend and he could not blame her._ I was a mess_. He thought miserably. _Yet another failure for my parents to put on the list._

He watched Daphne with Tracey, giggling together and he wondered what was so funny. A part of him feared they laughed at him. _They wouldn’t dare to do it with me so near. _He wondered if it would be easier if he actually fancied her. Or if he understood girls at all. He let out an audible groan because he knew just the person to ask but she was going to be _annoying _about it, he just knew it. _But I have to anyway_. He thought miserably.

Later that day, he approached Pansy with his problem. She smirked at him in the most irritating way. 

“Blaise owes me 3 Galleons.” She remarked.

He furrowed his brows, “For what?” _What does that have to do with anything?_

“Blaise was completely convinced you were bent and I told him that he was absurd! Thank Salazar you aren’t! I don’t know _what we’d _do. You _know_ how it is, Draco.” Her tone turned serious.

“Of course, I’m not bent, Pansy. Salazar! Blaise had better not be spreading that rubbish either!” He tensely retorted.

“Settle down. It is only between me and Blaise. We are going to make it official with our parents this coming Easter holiday.” She said with an air of smugness. “Honestly, I’m glad you fancy her. She has been trying to get her claws into _my_ Blaise for ages.” She stated.

Draco suppressed an eye roll. _What do they see in him? He’s a knobhead._

“Right, so, the first thing you have to know is that Daphne loves to talk about herself so ask her loads of questions. Second, don’t disagree with her. She _hates_ that. Most of all don’t interrupt her. She likes the sound of her voice more than you like your own, which is quite a feat.” Pansy explained with a sly smile.

He wrinkled his nose. _Ugh. This sounds like it is going to be painful._

Pansy giggled, “Don’t look so sour. When she annoys you with her talking just snog her. You’ve been snogged right?”

He blinked, his mind wandering back to his snog with Potter. The way his lips were soft against his and the sparks...he abruptly pulled himself out of it. _No. That doesn’t count._

“The dreamy look in your eyes suggest that you have! I _must_ know who it is!”

“Uh some bird at one of the boring events my parents drag me to. We were bored. She was a good snogger even if she was a complete minger.” He lied smoothly.

“My poor handsome Draco.” She cooed. “Anyway, do what I say and she will be all over you. Trust me.” 

“Are all girls this demanding?” He asked.

She rolled her eyes. “No. Daphne is annoying for sure but she’s a worthy Pureblood. If you want a simple, brainless twit, you’re better off going for a Hufflepuff.” She said. “But your parents can’t know that one. Anyway, pay little mind when your parents forbid you to snog her it’s a rubbish rule that no one in their right mind listens to!”

“Right.” He replied. _This is complex._

“There she is! And ugh hanging on Blaise. Come on!” She pulled him along by the arm.

Daphne was laughing at something Blaise was saying. She did not see them approach or pretended she didn’t. 

“Oh, hello Blaise.” Pansy cooed as she approached and slid her arm around his possessively.

Daphne sent daggers in Pansy’s direction. 

“Hello, Daphne.” He greeted, ignoring the tension around him.

“Draco…hello” She said coolly.

“How are you?” He asked, taking heed to Pansy’s advice.

“I am great.” She didn’t take her eyes off of Pansy.

“What is going on?” He pretended not to notice.

“Oh, you know. _Certain _people choosing _lesser_ families to court as though they would allow it.” She said stiffly.

“Excuse me, but we have asked our parents and we are making it official this coming Easter holiday.” Pansy cut in.

Daphne wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Wasn’t aware your family allowed you to date those beneath you, Blaise. Well, I suppose your family isn’t so interesting other than your mother’s spouses mysteriously dying and leaving small fortunes. How _lucky_ you must be. Perhaps she is not beneath you after all.” She stiffly replied.

Draco grit his teeth in utter frustration. There was no way he was spending his life with this horror. _I think I’d prefer exile. _He turned to walk away.

“Where are _you_ going, Draco?” Daphne asked as she grabbed hold of his arm. “At least I know your family is of the right sort. You would never date a troll.” 

“Right. Uh—” He sent Pansy a pleading look but she just smiled broadly. 

_She just wants this bitch away from her boyfriend. Can’t she see I’m miserable? _He found himself thinking of that day with Nott. Where was is when he needed to make a quick getaway? _Still haven’t figured out what it was. Perhaps it was a fluke. _

“Good on you, Draco.” Pansy cooed, interrupting his thoughts.

Draco inwardly groaned. _At least father will be happy with me for once._

Unfortunately, Daphne was everywhere after that. She wrapped her arm around his like a snake suffocating its victim but she did it with a smile and a wave. If anyone crossed her, she became like a viper, poisoning her victim with her venom. He hated being forced to be near someone who dared to treat him like he was her lackey! He was no such thing. He was _special_. He was a Malfoy. Yet, she had a fierce power about her and he knew that crossing her would be unwise for him and would only bring more trouble to his family.

Easter holiday came far too quickly. He only looked forward to a break if he could manage to stay at school. He knew that this would not be one of those times.

As soon as he returned to the Manor, a formal dinner was planned so that Daphne and her parents could come over. They formally asked to court, the parents approve or deny and set the terms. They practically planned their lives. 

“I’m only thirteen!” He dared to argue.

His father sent a stinging hex his way and a lecture on his duties as the heir and they will discuss the conditions of their courting with the other party present. _It’s more of a business arrangement when it comes down to it. _He thought miserably. Much like everything else, he did not have a choice in the matter.

Before the Greengrass family arrived at the manor his father took him aside.

“I won’t tolerate any whining or backtalk from you, do you understand?” He hissed at him as he pulled him by the elbow.

“Yes, father.” Draco said.

“Good.” 

Daphne, her parents, and her younger sister Astoria showed up at 6:00 P.M. sharp. Dinner was served at precisely 7 P.M. His mother had spent the day ordering around House-elves to prepare for their arrival. Everything had to be perfect. His father made sure that contracts were drawn up with meticulous detail. Draco himself was poked and prodded with a needle to make sure his dress robes fit perfectly. There were some last-minute alterations due to losing weight.

“I’m glad you are keeping trim, Draco but you should not lose any more.” His mother advised.

“Dixy thinks Master Draco is too thin and should eat a delicious sandwich Dixy will make.” Said their newest House-elf who evidently didn’t know its place. 

His mother ordered punishment immediately. A few hundred head bangs on the wall would suffice. _Serves it right. _Draco had thought. _Speaking out of term like that. _He couldn’t imagine the disgusting calories involved in such a sandwich. 

Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass peered around the Manor, clearly searching for anything to be out of place. Mr. Greengrass was tall and lean. He had a rather prominent mustache that poked upward at the side. He was fair-skinned and had rather dark brown hair that was practically gelled to his head. Mrs. Greengrass was medium-height, fair, and quite petite. Her light blond, curly hair sat primly on her shoulders. She had her chin up as though she held herself above all else. With them was their daughter, Astoria. He recognized her from school. She was a first year Slytherin this year. She was tiny, still with a hint of her baby fat. Her curly dark brown hair rolled down her back and had piercing chocolate brown eyes. She seemed about as thrilled as Draco was about the whole thing.

“Do come in.” Father said. 

The House-elf jumped in to levitate their coats to the closet.

Dinner was not quite ready yet so they sat on the couch. 

“So, in regard to Draco courting our Daphne.” Mr. Greengrass began.

Draco tuned them out because it wasn’t like he had a choice or the ability to express his opinions on the matter. It was just a bunch of formalities. Daphne seemed to have spaced out as well. He wondered if she actually liked him or would ever care to know him. _Doubtful_. He thought with sadness that surprised him. He had known he was to be with someone important regardless of opinions of them. With her they ruled the school and not even Nott or Marcus tried to take the mickey out of him anymore.

He gazed at Astoria who seemed to be pretending that her shoes were rather interesting. He saw her soundlessly mouthing words as the shoes moved in turn as though speaking to each other. He had to bite back a smirk. Despite her behavior being quite improper he found it rather amusing. It was far more interesting than the discussion of his fixed future.

Draco fidgeted in his seat suddenly. He recognized the jolt as a hex. His father was getting good at sending them wordlessly his way. He could have sworn he saw the emerald coloured antique vase shake slightly as he rolled his hands into fists. 

It stopped the moment Mr. Greengrass started to speak, quickly snagging his attention.

“Right. The terms of this juncture is quite simple. Draco and Daphne are courting but their contact is limited to hand holding and joined arms. Dates will be prohibited unless prearranged by both families. When you are fifteen you may go on unofficial dates but may only snog. Until you are of age these are the terms of your contract that you will sign. It is a magical contract so you are bound to it unless one of two of the parental party’s request departure. You must not engage in relationships with anyone else. If you are found to breach any of the contract consequences will be severe. It is unfortunate that we can no longer perform unbreakable vows for contracts as important as these. However, be aware that all will be watching and will not hesitate to report it back to us. Everyone wants to be with a Greengrass. Recognize the honour and the envy you will receive from others. Do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy accept these terms?” 

Draco paled as the bloke read the terms off of a rolling parchment that looked as old as the tradition itself. He knew he should not hesitate but he wanted to. How he longed to be able to get up and run to his room and fly out the window on his broom to freedom. He didn’t have any plans after that but it had to be better than a life without free will. 

He twitched in pain at the hex his father sent his way.

“Yes, I do.” Draco said finally.

His father read the same thing basically to Daphne. She did not hesitate before answering.

He felt Astoria’s piercing gaze on him. She seemed to be rather intrigued by something but he couldn’t fathom what that would be.

“Grand. Now dinner approaches. Let us eat.”

They moved to the dining room where they were served by their House-elves. The conversations that commenced was dull so Draco tuned it out. He pushed his food around in his plate, pretending to eat it.

The evening dragged on. He was relieved when they said their goodbyes and left.

After Dixy closed the door, he let out an audible sigh of relief.

“I know that was not easy but we are proud of you for being proper and upholding tradition.” His mother cooed as she wrapped her arms around him in a rare hug.

He didn’t care what the reason was; he savored the moment.

“Quite.” His father cut in after a few. “Now. Draco and I have a few more things to discuss, we will be in my study.”

Mother pulled back, chewing her lower lip anxiously. “Yes. Go on, now.”

The last thing Draco wanted was to be alone with his father. He reluctantly followed after him. He closed the door and cast _Colloportus _and _Muffliato _against the door. He was surprised to see Snape already there. He gaped at the man next to him. It was none other than Peter Pettigrew himself. He froze in utter fear at seeing the man who killed twelve with one spell in front of him in person.

“Severus, Pettigrew.” His father greeted; his demeanor was devoid of fear.

“Ah, Yes, Draco. Such an honour.” Pettigrew’s voice was surprisingly squeaky.

“Nice to meet you, sir.” He struggled to keep the shakiness out of his voice. “Professor Snape, pleased to see you, as always.” He said curtly.

“Sit down, Draco.” Father said.

“I was telling Severus that the end of the school year is nearing and we must act soon.” Pettigrew stated.

“Quite.” Snape seemed to be quite unenthusiastic about the presence of Pettigrew. Draco couldn’t fathom why considering they were on the same side.

“Yes. This is true. We must make plans accordingly. Pettigrew, you said you may have tracked the Dark Lord?” Father questioned.

“Yes. A good chance, nearly a hundred percent he’s in Albania. I made a few stops before Hogwarts. I spoke to many animals. I told them I was coming back for the Dark Lord and to relay the message.” Pettigrew explained.

_He spoke to the animals? How did this happen? _He might have guessed he was a Parselmouth if he had specifically said snakes. _Perhaps it’s implied._

He shook himself out of his thoughts quickly.

“We can’t proceed without a hundred percent chance. It is far too risky, Pettigrew.”

Pettigrew wrung his hands together nervously, his beady eyes widened in fear. “What about Longbottom and Potter? We—we must not find the Dark Lord without them.”

Draco gaped at them. _What do they mean? Are they going to kidnap them? How are they to do that without raising suspicions?_

His father sent him a stern look and Draco’s expression became safely stoic again.

“Draco does not need to know our full plan. Just his part.” 

Draco gulped. _My part._ He managed to otherwise keep his expression unreadable.

“Are you sure a _child_ should be involved in this at all?” Snape cut in.

“Quite. He is old enough for this. It’s good for him to show his alliances early. You know that, Severus.”

“What do you need me to do, father?” Draco cut in.

His father sent him a rare smile.

“I am going to need you to concoct several Polyjuice Potions. I am sure Severus can help you with the ingredients.” He began.

“Why?” Draco couldn’t help but ask. He flinched after, anticipating punishment. 

His father scowled by did not hex him. “We are going to take Longbottom and Potter to the Dark Lord and we need to make sure no one knows he is missing. _You _will have to briefly take him until we bring him back.”

Draco gaped at them. He had quite a few more questions but he knew better than to ask them. That is, until it came to himself. 

“Won’t people realize I am absent?” He asked tentatively.

“I will be pulling you out early—-family emergency.” Father said.

“Yes sir.” Draco said evenly, his distant expression his contempt toward the Dark Lord’s followers, and most of all Longbottom for making Potter just as much of a target as him.

“Don't forget to get hair from the both of them. We will let you know when. It will be closer to the end of the year, rest assured. This will achieve us all great favour with the Dark Lord.” Father continued.

“Yes. Yes. Most exciting.” Pettigrew squeaked quietly to himself.

_He is an odd one._

“Now. Draco leave us. You have your task, now go study.” His father dismissed him with a wave of the hand.

Draco left as commanded, sending a simple bow to the head to the three men. He headed to his room and shut the door, his heart pounding out of his chest. _How am I going to get hair from them? How am I going to pretend to be Longbottom? What is the rest of the plan?_

His breathing quickened considerably as he laid there for several moments. _Why is this my life?_ Tears rolled down his cheeks as he lay there staring at the ceiling, filled with dread. He had mounds of homework but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

A week after the holiday his mood did not improve. He was exhausted from lack of sleep while trying to juggle everything else. He was expected to study and keep up appearances with Daphne. She was quite exhausting on her own. 

Then there was Quidditch. He couldn’t care less about it. Part of him wanted to quit. He couldn’t seem to pay attention during practices. By the day of the match he was feeling quite ill. Of course, he couldn’t sit out because it was the finals and he couldn’t let everyone down. 

He ran his broomstick into Potter during the game. He had no idea how it happened. He felt woozy and then he realized he hit Potter, nearly knocking him off the broom. Even as the other lad zoomed off, he was dazed. The next thing he knew the bloody Gryffindors won the Quidditch Cup. 

“How can you shame us like that?” Daphne hissed in his ear as they walked arm and arm through the hallway. “That was mortifying! And will you eat something? You look ghastly!”

“Of course.” He said dully. He had lost all energy to argue.

By the time final exams rolled around, he was still not sleeping and horribly behind. He could barely muster the energy to get out of bed and when he did, he was dizzy all the time. Daphne stopped talking to him, which was actually a relief. He also hadn’t gotten the hair from Potter or Longbottom. He was barely paying attention to anything at all.

On the last day of exams, he fainted in the middle of one of them and ended up in the hospital wing. 

“Mr. Malfoy. You must eat! You are severely malnourished and underweight! I must recommend you return to the mind healer!” The urgency in Madam Pomfrey’s voice was oddly soothing.

He opened his mouth to say something and then shut it again. He realized then he hadn’t actually spoken other than in class when required. Pansy was too busy with Blaise and Daphne never spoke to him anymore. Crabbe and Goyle weren’t around because of Daphne. 

He was horrified when he realized unsolicited tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Mr. Malfoy, why didn’t you ask for help?” Madam Pomfrey asked softly.

He shrugged his shoulders and hung his head, tears silently sliding down his cheeks.

He was in the hospital wing a week before Madam Pomfrey felt he was well enough to leave. They had arranged for mandatory mind healer sessions. _Ridiculous._ He had thought. 

The day he left the hospital wing Daphne shrilly told him she had been begging her parents to cease their contract. _There’s hope yet._ He had thought.

“Draco? Draco!” He was greeted by Pansy. “Oh, I’d been so worried and Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t allow any visitors. Are you alright? Did you have dragon pox? Do you have to retake your exams?” She said it all in one long impressive breath.

He blinked. He nodded at the first part, shook his head on the second and nodded to the third.

"Why won’t you talk? Oh Godric, what happened?” She whispered harshly. 

He wavered where he stood, feeling a cold sweat spread through his body. He felt like he was going to faint again. No wait, he couldn’t breathe this time. His cheeks flared red as he let out embarrassing wheezing noises.

“Salazar, Draco, come here.” Pansy pulled him out of the corridor into an empty classroom. 

He barely remembered leaving the Great Hall before running into Pansy. She kept her hands on his arms as she tried to lock her gaze on his. He took care to avoid it at all costs.

“Draco...look at me please.” There were tears in her eyes. “Breathe. Slow breath in, tiny ones out.”

He managed to regulate his breathing before finally locking his gaze with her. If his parents knew this had occurred; it would shame them for sure, especially if Daphne stayed true to her word. His father would be upset with him again and once again he would feel the excruciating, unimaginable pain of the Cruciatus Curse. He still had nightmares about it on nights he didn’t use the Dreamless Sleep potion.

“Draco...Draco!” 

He blinked rapidly. Had she been speaking to him? He hadn’t the foggiest.

“What is going on with you?” She demanded.

He shook his head. _I can’t tell anyone._

“Please? I can help, whatever it is.”

_I mustn’t tell anyone._ He shook his head again.

“Draco!” She shook him almost violently. “Please.” The frantic tone in her voice frightened him. _Do I look that pathetic?_

He opened his mouth, only a tiny squeak coming out before finally he found his voice and unloaded the woes about Daphne and the Polyjuice potion that he had to brew and why. When he finished, he coughed; his voice clearly underused. He was trembling but he didn’t know why. She gaped at him in utter disbelief.

“You’ve been keeping all of this to yourself?” He nodded his head.

“You know you aren’t alone, right?” She insisted.

He bobbed his head up and down again, even though it was how he had been feeling as of late. It wasn’t like he could relay part of the Dark Lord’s plans to Moaning Myrtle, a Muggle-born. He sighed.

“I’m going to help you get the hair from those two gits, OK? I won’t tell anyone and I honestly don’t care about the glory found in helping the Dark Lord.” Pansy rolled her eyes dramatically. “I miss the days when we’d tear through the school together and pick on Mudbloods and Blood traitors. Remember? It was like we were on top. Now I have Blaise, who is so unbearably clingy I can’t take it and you have the shrew. It’s all messed up. We should have been together this whole time, I swear.” 

Draco blinked at her a moment, trying to comprehend it all. He smiled despite himself at the part about tearing through school. He sighed, wishing the same. He didn’t like Pansy in a romantic sense but at least he wouldn’t mind building a life with her someday. He could tolerate her. Daphne made him want to jump on a broomstick and fly away.

“Maybe we can tell Daphne to go ahead and tell her ugly parents to sever the deal and then our families make the pact. I mean, I’m over Blaise. She can have him.” Pansy said.

He smiled at her then and nodded. “OK. But first we need that hair.”

“Actually, first you need to make up your exams. Off you go!” She gave him a slight push. 

He grumbled and headed out the door. He wanted to stop and say thank you but then decided that was quite corny and she’d just think he was having a laugh.

The make-up exams weren’t so bad. He was alone since everyone had finished already. The only one he struggled with was Defense Against the Dark Arts. It ended with a Boggart. He nearly fainted at the sight of seeing his father yelling at him about what a failure he was. _Do Boggarts often change?_ He wondered. 

After his makeup exams, Snape called him to his office. 

“It’s too dangerous to do this in the Potions classroom.” He explained when Draco asked.

For the next week they made a few batches, just in case. Meanwhile, he and Pansy were still trying to figure out exactly how they were going to steal Longbottom and Potter’s hair without them realizing it.

He and Pansy sat in the grass, watching Granger, Finnigan, Harry and Longbottom with their heads together nearby._ I wonder what they are conspiring about._ One thing he knew about that lot was that it was always something. Potter and Longbottom seemed to be avoiding each other entirely but trying to make it seem like they weren’t. The others clearly knew what was going on but no one said anything. It was horribly painful to watch. His gaze lingered on Potter for a moment but he refused to allow to fester. All of that time spent in silence; it always returned to him. He was not going there again.

Finally, the four of them got up and headed in their direction.

“Hagrid lost his appeal. He just sent this.” Granger was saying as she passed. 

Draco and Pansy exchanged looks and stood to their feet and followed close behind them.

Granger was reading from a parchment. “Lost appeal. They’re going to execute him at sunset. Nothing you can do. Don’t come down. I don’t want you to see it.” 

“We have to be there for him.” Longbottom replied.

“It isn’t fair. Malfoy wasn’t that hurt. This is all his fault.” Seamus added.

Draco felt a pang of guilt at his words but he would never allow it to show.

“There’s no way we can get away with being there without the invisibility cloak.” Finnigan continued.

Pansy sent Draco an incredulous look and he merely nodded. He already knew it existed. “Don’t tell anyone.” He found himself uttering. She stared at him incredulously but miraculously did not press it.

They passed them without further incident.

Draco turned to her, “Looks like my father came through with the dumb bird.” He said. “But it doesn't sound like he’s been sacked, though does it?”

She shook her head. “Unfair. Although, at least the monster that mauled you is going to die.

Draco forced a smile, feeling sick inside.

They soon followed suit and headed inside for dinner in the Great Hall. Draco struggled to eat but managed to get a few things down. As they headed down the corridor, they spotted Granger, Finnigan, and Longbottom talking to that dumb oaf.

“There has to be some way to stop it. They can’t do this!” Exclaimed Longbottom. 

“S’no use. It’s already been decided. That Committee’s in Lucius Malfoy’s pocket. I’m jus’ gonna make sure the rest o’ Beaky’s time is the happiest he’s ever had. I owe him that…” 

He turned around and headed away, his head buried in a handkerchief.

“Look at him blubber!” Draco blurted out despite the guilt that twisted up his insides into knots. _I can’t let them see how I really feel. I can’t. _

Pansy burst into laughter beside him as Finnigan, Longbottom, and Granger turned to glare at them.

“Have you ever seen anything so pathetic? He’s supposed to be our professor!” He continued.

Finnigan and Longbottom made furious moves toward him but it was Granger that got to him first. The next thing he had backed up to the wall with the mad witch pointing her wand at his neck with a fierceness he didn’t know she had in her.

“Don’t you _dare_ call him pathetic!” She warned.

He gulped and glanced over Granger’s bushy hair toward Pansy. Finnigan and Longbottom had their wands pointed at her threateningly.

“Stop! This isn’t worth getting expelled over!” Another voice chimed in. 

It was Potter. _As always._

After a tense moment, they lowered their wands. Not wanting to look as terrified as he felt, he let out a laugh. “Better go tend to your oaf then.” He sneered.

”Shut up you pathetic, foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!” Granger yelled loud enough that anyone in the corridor had stopped to stare.

He was about to respond when he felt a crack and a terrible throbbing in his nose. Blood poured from it, down the front of his shirt. His eyes widened in shock.

“Draco!” Pansy cooed.

Everyone else was laughing. _Oh, no, my father is going to hear about this and punish me._

“Shp” He got out as he held the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s get you to the hospital wing.” Pansy spoke low to him. “Go on you lot! Nothing to see here!” She waved her wand at their classmates threateningly.

“You heard her. Move. On.” Potter interjected. _He can’t help himself, can he?_

He had no other choice than to allow Pansy to lead the way. As he passed Potter, his eyes lingered on him, his emerald gems bore deep into his soul. He allowed himself to lose himself in them for just a moment. Then, on a whim, he yanked on his hair with his free hand, pulling a few strands out. Potter stumbled over himself a bit as he stared at Draco with a bewildered expression. 

Pansy’s eyes glittered with sudden mischief and reached for Longbottom and did the same. She showed Draco the strands of hair as they walked away. Longbottom had fallen on his fat ass in shock. Despite the broken nose, he cackled with Pansy as her laugh rang out into the hallway like perfect bells.

Once they calmed down, they stopped for a moment and glanced at each other in awe. ‘We got it.’ They mouthed to each other. Pansy took out two pieces of parchment and spellotaped the piece of hair to them. She labeled them and then handed it over to Draco.

“To give to Snape.” She instructed with a wry smile.

“‘ank yew Pansy.” He got out with difficulty.

“Cheers! Now let’s get your nose fixed. What a tragedy if you were to become horribly disfigured! I could _never _marry you then!”

“‘hove off!” He retorted with a laugh as they started to head toward the hospital wing again.

Madam Pomfrey kept asking who had broken his nose but he refused to say. He sent daggers toward Pansy as soon as she opened her mouth to speak. There was no way he was going to admit Granger broke his nose even if it got her expelled.

Draco watched the sun go down in the hospital wing, knowing, with the weight of swallowed rocks that Buckbeak was being beheaded this very moment and it was entirely his fault. As darkness filled the room, he pulled his covers over his head and pretended he was as dead as that poor Hippogriff because despite hating their oaf of a professor, the creature itself did not deserve such a fate.


	14. Risen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I have been ill.

They had not come up with a plan to track down Pettigrew but with Harry’s help they were able to get a hold of some books from the restricted section of the library.

“It says here that wands are merely tools that wield and control a witch or wizard’s magic. When released without control, as demonstrated in the form of accidental magic by children prior to eleven, it can be dangerous and destructive to others when displayed by adult witches or wizards. Examples of such cases of—”

“We get it Hermione.” Seamus cut her off much to Neville’s relief.

“So, you both have experienced this?” Hermione asked; her eyes didn’t lift from the pages.

“Yes.” They both said.

“How about you, Ron?”

“Blimey, no. I didn’t know it was possible after—well hold on, didn’t you and Potter blow up some Muggles last summer?” 

Neville turned bright red and nodded. “Yes, we did.” 

He tried to ignore the awe in their expressions.

“Now _that’s _some wicked power!” Seamus said.

“Keep your voice down!” Hermione hissed. “How did the adults react?”

Neville pursed his lips together in thought, “They didn’t seem surprised in the slightest. Treated it like accidental magic like before we went to Hogwarts.”

Hermione frowned. “You’d think they’d be more concerned about it, given the power of it. How you two pulled off blowing up three Muggles—quite extraordinary.”

Neville disliked how Hermione looked at him like he was a research project.

“Well. You must learn how to control it before something worse happens.” Hermione continued. “Or more things blow up.” She said as she glanced at Seamus. “I think that is why things explode when you lose your temper while using magic. It’s a burst of uncontrolled magic. You’re lucky no one had gotten hurt.”

“Well it’s not my fault! I didn’t know!” Seamus said, clearly affronted by her words.

“We know that, Seamus. It’s none of our faults.” Neville reassured him.

“And it _won’t_ be if you learn how to control it.” Hermione lectured.

“How exactly do we do that?” Seamus asked.

Hermione frowned. “That, I don’t know yet. Keep reading. There’s bound to be something.”

Harry showed up after Quidditch practice. They caught him up and then went back to work. As it turned out, finding out how control rogue magic was far more difficult than they initially thought it would be. Displaying that much uncontrolled magic after the age of eleven was said to be a rarity.

Harry and Neville exchanged nervous glances. _What would they say about our connection? When we touch, we generate so much magic. It was beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. Not even the comforting spark between me and Seamus is the same. _He couldn’t help but wonder if theirs was something else entirely. Neither of them spoke up about it so they let it slip to the back of their minds for the time being. 

The next day, as he left the Great Hall after breakfast with Hermione and Seamus, Harry shoved a piece of parchment in his hand as he passed, sending shocks up and down his spine.

_Meet me in the mirror room._

He crumpled it up and shoved it in his robes. He made his way halfway to the portrait before making the excuse that he forgot something. The other two stared after him with suspicious glances but he ignored it.

He entered the classroom, nervous for reasons he couldn’t fathom. Harry was there waiting for him. He sent him a coy smile that made Neville flush red.

“Right. What is it?” He tried to sound casual.

“I think you know. I mean. The rogue magic is us, isn’t it? Yet ours is also different. Why is that? Don’t you want to find out?” Harry said. “I feel a rush of magic when I touch um certain others but it isn’t like ours. Not even close.”

Neville frowned. _Who does he feel a rush of magic with? _He thought furiously. “I haven’t a clue what it means.” He said a bit harsher than he intended.

Harry raised his brows at his tone but didn’t say anything about it. He stepped forward instead and reached for his hands. A glow came between them and an impossible wind began to blow. “Calm down.” Harry said soothingly. 

Neville tried but he could not stop imagining him with someone else and sharing moments like these. The wind picked up and the spark between them brightened as though they had both cast _Lumos _on their wands.

"Holy shit, Neville! What is wrong?” He shouted. 

Furniture was flying about destructively. “We are going to attract attention!” Harry looked terrified. 

Neville was trembling with fear which only seemed to make it worse. The wind howled around them and chairs and desks flew into the walls. Sweat poured down his cheeks as panic rose from within. He tried to yank himself away, sure that it would stop it but Harry, eyes wide and manic, shook his head violently.

“No! No! It will go completely bonkers!” He warned loudly.

“What do you call what is happening now?” Neville countered with a bewildered expression.

“Calm down!” Harry called out.

“I-I can’t!” Tears rolled down his cheeks. 

“Neville!”

The idea came to Neville in a flash of manic enlightenment. He closed the gap between them and messily pressed his lips against his. Harry froze at first and then returned it fiercely. The storm stopped around them and all that was left was this beaming light that was illuminating the dark room.

When they backed up, their hands parted and it went dark again. 

“_Lumos.” _Harry shakily said.

The room lit up considerably. They glanced around, taking note of the damage.

“Shit.” Harry whispered quietly.

It looked like Peeves tore through the room in a fit of rage.

“We did that.” Neville answered, unable to glance at Harry. 

It was quite a snog. He felt rather light-headed and strange. He didn’t know how to bring it up. _What do I say? Do I ask if he likes me? Was I good? I’ve never snogged anyone before!_

He turned to Harry, who stared at him appearing to be just as perplexed as he was.

“Harry I—” He began.

“Maybe we should leave it as it is.” Harry cut him off. 

Thunder boomed from behind him.

“No, I mean. Godric, Neville. It’s like we are this force and what if somehow it gets complicated and we cause mayhem? In Muggle movies there are many examples of something they call Telekinesis. They can move things with their minds. Maybe it’s based off some sort of imprint of magic they saw but had obliviated! I don’t know but they just lost control and bad shit happened. What if…” He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

“We would learn how to control it.” Neville said. “We have to anyway.”

Harry stared at him and bit his lip. “I’m—I uh can’t.” He said after a few. 

“Why?” Neville’s heart was sinking deeper every moment.

He screwed up his eyebrows in concentration. “I don’t know.” He muttered a few moments later. 

Neville opened his mouth but found he couldn’t speak. Harry was already exiting the room at a quickening pace, leaving Neville alone in the destroyed room, utterly gobsmacked.

When he finally got his wits about him again and headed to the common room, he refused to answer any questions by his mates on where he’d gone or if he heard what Peeves did to the classroom that had the mirror.

_What doesn’t he know?_ _Is it because I’m a bloke? Am I not good enough? _The questions filled his mind, robbing him of his sleep.

Although all he wanted to do was avoid Harry entirely, the task at hand prevented that. They continued to research rogue magic and information on Pettigrew to no avail on both accounts.

On June 22nd, they were no closer to figuring out anything. Neville, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about the impromptu snog. 

He stopped short rather quickly. He nearly ran into Cornelius Fudge in the corridor. Fudge stood by the window, swearing slightly in his pinstriped cloak, staring out into the grounds. He started at the sight of Neville.

“Oh! Hello there, Neville!” He said. “How are you? Have your exam results been announced yet?”

Neville blinked. Somehow, he had forgotten all about that. “Not yet, sir.”

“It will come out soon, I suspect.” Fudge said with a slight nod of the head. “Lovely day.” He added as he cast his gaze over the lake. “Pity...pity.”

He sighed deeply as Neville stared at him, mystified. 

“I’m here on an unpleasant mission. The committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures requires a wildness to the execution of a mad Hippogriff. As I needed to visit Hogwarts to check on the Pettigrew situation, I was asked to step in.” Fudge stated.

“Does that mean the appeal has already happened?” Neville asked.

“No, it is scheduled for this afternoon.” replied Fudge.

“Then perhaps you won’t have to witness one at all!” Neville said in a hopeful tone.

Before Fudge could answer, two wizards came through the castle doors behind him. One was so ancient he appeared to be already withering; the other was tall and strapping, with a thin back mustache. Neville gathered that they were representatives of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, because the old wizard squinted toward Hagrid’s cabin and said in a feeble voice, “Dear, dear, I’m getting too old for this. Two o’clock, isn’t it, Fudge?”

The black-mustached man was fingering something in his belt; Neville looked and saw that he was running one broad thumb along the blade of a shining axe. 

Neville nearly said something but couldn’t muster up the courage to speak up. His face paled considerably as Fudge left.

He filled in Ron, Seamus, and Hermione at lunch time. Their mood worsened at every detail. All around them, people spoke excitedly as they ate their lunch, happily anticipating the end-of-term feast coming up. The four of them was too worried about Hagrid and Buckbeak to consider joining in.

That afternoon, as they sat in the grass, Harry had approached, asking if he could join them. For some reason everyone turned their heads toward Neville expectedly. Not wanting to appear suspicious, he nodded slightly.

They all leaned forward, speaking in low tones so that no one could hear them conspire. Apparently, Hermione had been working with Seamus on his rogue magic and he was improving quite a bit. She had decided _he _was next. He was about to object when he noticed that Harry wasn’t paying attention at all. In fact, he was staring at Malfoy in a way that suggested something terrible. 

_There’s such electricity in his gaze. I can almost feel it radiating off of him. Does he like Malfoy? _He shook it off. _It isn’t possible, is it?_

They had agreed to use the invisibility cloak to witness the execution that was ordered for sunset.

At dinner, Neville could barely get anything down his throat. They decided to meet up with Hagrid after they finished eating.

As Neville passed Harry’s table he hissed, “Meet us at the entrance hall.” He gained some curious and suspicious glances from Slytherins but he ignored them. They had much more important things to worry about. 

“That felt good.” Hermione said after she punched Malfoy in the face for taunting Hagrid.

“Yeh shouldn’t have done tha’ Hermione.” Hagrid scolded, though he was smiling broadly.

“I didn’t know you had it in you.” Harry said, clearly impressed.

Hermione was a deep shade of red at this point. “He deserved it.” She said primly as she stiffened up.

“That was grand! See if he tries to take the mickey out of you again!” Seamus cut in.

“What’d I miss?” Ron asked when he came up to them.

As Seamus clued him in, Neville turned to Hermione and whispered in her ear. “That was brilliant you know.” He said with a smirk.

“Thank you.” She returned, pink returning to her cheeks.

“I’ve got to go! Don’t yeh follow me!” Hagrid said tersely as he lumbered off toward his hut.

They all exchanged glances, inevitably reaching the same conclusion. 

After waiting an appropriate amount of time, they headed down to the entrance hall.

“How are we all going to fit under there anyway?” Ron pointed out as they arrived.

They glanced between each other. None of them had considered that.

“As long as Neville and Harry are covered—maybe no one will pay us any mind. Hagrid can take us back before it is dark.” Hermione stated.

“Aces! Now where is that prat?” Seamus grumbled. 

“Don’t know.” Neville said anxiously as he glanced around. 

_He was here when Hermione hit Malfoy. Where did he go? He wouldn’t blow us off, would he?_

He turned when he heard the swoosh of a cloak and a smirking Harry appeared.

“You’re late.” Hermione scolded crossly. 

“I couldn’t have followed right behind you.” He said with a roll of the eyes. “Anyway, I’m here now. Although there is no way all of us could fit in there.”

“We are the ones who Pettigrew is after and who need to watch out the most so it’s you and me.” Neville said without glancing in his direction.

He could feel the other’s eyes on him but he ignored it.

“Right.” Harry murmured as he through the cloak over them.

Despite walking close together; Neville was careful not to touch them. The others walked silently beside them. The sun was already sinking behind the Forbidden Forest, gliding the top branches of the trees. 

Hermione reached over and knocked on Hagrid’s door. He was a minute in answering. When he did his brows shot up.

“What are yeh doing here? You shouldn’t have come!” He whispered, but he stood back, and they stepped inside. Hagrid shut the door quickly and Harry pulled off the cloak.

Hagrid furrowed his brows, “Yeh two shouldn’t have come most of all!” He exclaimed, though he did shoot them a grateful look regardless.

Hagrid was not crying, nor did he throw himself upon their necks. He looked like a man who did not know where he was or what to do. This helplessness was worse to watch than the tears.

“Wan’ some tea?” He said. His dread hands were shaking as he reached for the kettle.

“Where’s Buckbeak, Hagrid?” Hermione said hesitantly.

“I-I took him outside.” said Hagrid, spilling milk all over the table as he filled up the jug. “He’s tethered in me pumpkin patch. Thought he oughta see the trees an’—an’ smell fresh air—before—”

Hagrid’s hand trembled so violently that the milk jug slipped from his grasp and shattered all over the floor.

“I’ll do it, Hagrid,” said Hermione quickly, hurrying over and starting to clean up the mess.

“There’s another one in the cupboard,” Hagrid said, sitting down and wiping his forehead on his sleeve.

Neville glanced at Ron, who looked back hopelessly.

“Isn’t there anything anyone can do, Hagrid?” Neville asked fiercely, sitting down next to him. “Dumbledore —”

“He’s tried,” said Hagrid. “He’s got no power ter overrule the Committee. He told ‘em Buckbeak’s all right, but they’re scared. Yeh know what Lucius Malfoy’s like. He threatened ‘em, I expect...an’ the executioner, Macnair, he’s an old pal o’ Malfoy’s...but it’ll be quick an’ clean... an’ I’ll be beside him...”

Hagrid swallowed. His eyes were darting all over the cabin as though looking for some shred of hope or comfort.

“Dumbledore’s gonna come down while it—while it happens. Wrote me this mornin’. Said he wants ter—ter be with me. Great man, Dumbledore...”

Hermione, who had been rummaging in Hagrid’s cupboard for another milk jug, let out a small, quickly stifled sob. She straightened up with the new jug in her hands, fighting back tears.

“We’ll stay with you too, Hagrid,” she began, but Hagrid shook his shaggy head.

“Yeh’re ter go back up ter the castle. I told yeh, I don’ wan’ yeh watchin’. An’ yeh shouldn’ be down here anyway... If Fudge an’ Dumbledore catch yeh out without permission,” He eyed Harry and Neville, “Yeh’ll be in big trouble.”

Silent tears streamed down Hermione’s face, but she hid them moron Hagrid, bustling around making tea.

Hagrid suddenly stood up, his eyes fixed on the window. His normally ruddy face had gone the color of parchment.

“They’re comin’...”

Neville, Harry, Seamus, Ron, and Hermione whipped around. A group of men were walking down the distant castle steps. In front was Albus Dumbledore, his silver beard gleaming in the dying sun. Next to him trotted Cornelius Fudge. Behind them came the feeble old Committee member and the executioner, Macnair.

“Yeh gotta go,” said Hagrid. Every inch of him was trembling. “They mustn’ find yeh here... Go now...”

Harry picked up the cloak and shielded it around Neville.

“I’ll let yeh out the back way,” said Hagrid.

They followed him to the door into his back garden. The whole thing struck Neville as surreal, especially when he saw Buckbeak a few yards away, tethered to a tree behind Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. Buckbeak seemed to know something was happening. He turned his sharp head from side to side and pawed the ground nervously.

“It’s okay, Beaky,” said Hagrid softly. “It’s okay...” He turned to Neville, Seamus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “Go on,” he said. “Get goin’.”

But they didn’t move.

“Hagrid, we can’t —”

“We’ll tell them what really happened—”

“They can’t kill him —”

“Go!” said Hagrid fiercely. “It’s bad enough without you lot in trouble an’ all!”

They had no choice. As they left, they heard voices at the front of the cabin. Hagrid looked at the place where they had just vanished from sight.

“Go quick,” he said hoarsely. “Don’ listen...”

He strode back into his cabin as someone knocked at the front door.

Slowly, in a kind of horrified trance, they set off silently around Hagrid’s house. As they reached the other side, the front door closed with a sharp snap.

“Please, let’s hurry,” Hermione whispered. “I can’t stand it; I can’t bear it...”

They started up the sloping lawn toward the castle. The sun was sinking fast now; the sky had turned to a clear, purple-tinged gray, but to the west there was a ruby-red glow.

They walked forward; they were all trying not to listen to the rumble of voices behind them. There was a silence spread out throughout the woods. It caused the voices to echo in the air, inevitably impossible to ignore.

They paused, their paled, horrified faces reflecting off each other’s as a jumble of indistinct male voices rose louder. A silence followed and then, without warning, the unmistakable swish and thud of an axe.

Hermione swayed on the spot.

“They did it!” she whispered to them. “I’d — don’t believe it — they did it!”

Neville had gone blank with shock. They stood transfixed in horror. The last rays of the setting sun were casting a bloody light over the long-shadowed grounds. Then, behind them, they heard a wild howling.

“Hagrid,” Ron muttered. 

Without thinking about what he was doing, Neville turned back, ready to head back to the hut, but both Seamus and Hermione seized his arms.

“We can’t,” said Seamus, who was paper-white. “He’ll be in worse trouble if they know we’ve been to see him...”

Hermione’s breathing was shallow and uneven.

“How—could—they?” she choked. “How could they?”

“Come on,” said Harry, his teeth chattering as he spoke.

Neville couldn’t find the energy to speak as they set off back toward the castle. He and Harry walked slowly to keep themselves hidden under the cloak. The light was fading fast now.

By the time they reached open ground, darkness was settling like a spell around them.

They were silent as they headed back to their dormitories. The sound of the axe haunted Neville’s dreams that night.

On June 23rd, Neville jolted awake, his scar on his forehead burning. _That can’t be a good sign._ He thought. He had missed breakfast already so he waited until lunch to tell the others about his scar hurting.

“Right but has anything else happened?” Ron asked.

“No…” Neville said hesitantly.

“No clues other than your scar hurting either.” Seamus added.

“Maybe the prediction is wrong. I mean, Divination is hardly something concrete—”

“You weren’t there!” Neville exclaimed. “You have no idea, do you? Something is going to happen; I can feel it! I’m not going to sit here and do nothing about it, either!”

He ignored the stares as he stormed out of the Great Hall. He didn’t have a plan but he intended on taking a walk outside. Perhaps he could find a snake. Surely, they must know something. It wouldn’t be the first time. He remembered the snake he spoke to his first year.

_Can you feel the darkness nestling in the dirt and pulsing through the trees? _It had said ominously.

“Wait up!” A voice called out in the distance.

“I’m busy.” He snapped.

“Shut up. Whatever you’re doing I’m coming to.”

Neville stopped and whirled around to face Harry. “Why? What do you care?” 

Harry’s face fell. “Look, I’m sorry about that day...I just. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I am confused…”

Neville paused before letting out an exasperated sigh. “Fine, you clueless git, hurry up.”

“I think I am a bad influence on you.” Harry responded with a cheeky grin.

“Probably. Now come on. Before the others follow.” 

They made their way outside by the lake. It was getting awfully warm out so they were sweating by the time they made it to the tree.

“What are we looking for?” Harry asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t really know. A snake, maybe? Something somewhere must know something, right?” Neville replied.

“Your memory problems are quite concerning, Longbottom. Perhaps you need a Remembrall.” Came a drawling voice behind them.

Both he and Harry turned around to a smirking Malfoy. He was holding something small in his hands.

“You came all the way out here without knowing what to look for? Pathetic.” He spat as he glowered at them. 

Neville could have sworn he saw something else in his eyes. _It almost looks fearful. _He quickly dismissed it. _That must be my imagination._ He reasoned.

“What’s in your hand, Malfoy?” Harry growled out.

Malfoy’s sneered. “Your blood traitor’s friend.” He said. “He should look after his pets better.”

He opened his palms slightly, revealing Scabbers. The rat looked like he had seen better days. There were patches of fur missing and he was skinnier than ever.

“Give him here, Malfoy!” Harry demanded.

“I think not. Instead, let’s see what happens when I do this.” He let go of Scabbers and he scurried out of his hands and headed off quickly.

“Scabbers!” Neville yelled as he took off running after him.

Malfoy’s laughter echoed in the wind.

They seemed to gain no headway as they chased him through the grass. It was as though he was purposely sending them in circles!

“Maybe...we should…stun him…when we…see him…again.” Neville suggested.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Just then Scabbers appeared again. “There he is!” Neville pointed as he pulled his wand out. 

Harry grunted; his wand was also pointed at the rat. He was too fidgety to accurately aim at him.

“Come on!” Neville beckoned as he took off after Scabbers. 

He could hear Harry lumbering behind him.

Then, out of nowhere, something hit Neville so hard across the face he was knocked off his feet. He heard Harry let out a noise of pain and fall too.

After his vision cleared, Neville reached for his wand and then stared upwards. They had chased Scabbers into the shadow of the Whomping Willow. Its branches were creaking as though in high wind, whipping backward and forward to stop them from going nearer.

“Well, there you go.” Harry said. “That rat can stay there.” 

“No! No. We have to get him back for Ron! If we don’t go now, we might not find him again!” Neville exclaimed. “If Scabbers can get there so can we!”

He stated to dart, breathless, trying to find a way to get through the vicious, swishing branches, but he couldn’t get an inch nearer without being in range of the tree’s blows. 

“What now?” Harry called out.

“I don’t know!” Neville returned.

Then, out of nowhere, Crookshanks darted forward in front of Neville so abruptly that he stumbled over into Harry.

“Crookshanks?” He questioned, in awe.

“Crookshanks!” Hermione’s voice called out from behind them.

“How did—”

The next moment a big black dog came whirling past them after the cat. It was the same one that Neville and Harry had seen all year. 

Harry and Neville exchanged shocked glances. For a moment, Neville remained still as though stunned. 

They watched in awe as Crookshanks slithered between the battering branches like a snake and placed his front paws upon a knot on the trunk. 

Abruptly, as though the tree had been turned to marble, it stopped moving. Not a leaf twitched or shook.

“Crookshanks.” Hermione said beside them. 

“How did he know to do that?” Neville questioned.

“I don’t know but we don’t know how long it will last.” Harry stated.

“Where are the others?” Neville asked as they covered the distance to the trunk.

“Went to get Lupin—look that dog—”

“Is the Grim, I know.” Neville interrupted Hermione. 

“No! Listen!” She said urgently. 

They stopped short for a few moments, watching as Crookshanks slid into it with a flick of his bottle-brush tail. Neville went in next. He crawled forward, headfirst, and slid down an earthly slope to the bottom of a low tunnel. Crookshanks was a little way along, his eyes flashing in the light of Harry’s lit wand behind him. They heard the sound of Hermione coming through a few moments later.

“This way!” Neville followed, bent-backed, after Crookshanks.

“Where does this tunnel come out?” Hermione asked breathlessly from behind him.

“I don’t know. It’s marked on the Marauder’s Map but Fred and George said no one’s ever gotten into it. It goes off of the map, but it looks like it was heading toward Hogsmeade.” Harry explained.

They moved as fast as they could while bunched over. Ahead of them, Crookshanks’s tail bobbed in and out of view. The passage seemed to go on for ages; it felt at least as long as the one to Honeydukes. Neville was drawing breath in sharp, painful gasps, running at a crouch.

Then the tunnel began to rise; moments later it twisted, and Crookshanks had gone. Just ahead of them, Neville could see a patch of dim light through a small opening.

He, Harry and Hermione paused, gasping for breath, before edging forward. They raised their wands to see what lay beyond.

It was a room, a very disordered, dusty room. Paper was peeling from the walls; there were stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody had smashed it. The windows were all boarded up.

Neville and Harry exchanged nervous glances and then turned toward Hermione, who appeared to be quite shaken, nodded.

Neville pulled himself out of the hole, glancing about. The room was deserted, but a door to their right stood open, leading to a shadowy hallway. 

Hermione suddenly grabbed Neville’s arm again. Her wide eyes were traveling around the boarded windows.

“Neville,” she whispered, “I think we’re in the Shrieking Shack.”

Neville gulped. He grew up hearing stories about how it was haunted. His eyes fell on a wooden chair near them. Large chunks had been torn out of it; one of the legs had been ripped off entirely.

“Ghosts didn’t do that.” Harry whispered behind him.

At that moment, there was a creak overhead. _Something is moving up there!_ Neville thought, alarmed.

The three of them glanced upward at the ceiling. Hermione’s grip on his arm was so tight he was losing feeling in his fingers.

Quickly as they could, they crept out into the hall and up the crumbling staircase. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust except the floor, where a wide shiny stripe has been made by something being dragged upstairs.

They reached the dark landing.

“_Nox_.” They whispered together, and lights at the end of their wands went out. Only one door was open. As they crept toward it, they heard movement from behind it and a loud thump against the floor.

They exchanged a last look and a final nod.

Wand held tightly before him; Neville kicked the door wide open.

On the ground lay a stunned Crookshanks. There was no sign of the rat. They barely had a chance to comprehend the situation when the door slammed behind them and the wands of Lucius Malfoy and another, mask and hooded figure were pointed at the trio. 

Neville face paled. He felt a jab of pain in his mouth as he gulped; it was as dry as a desert.

“Bring that mutt over here.” Lucius Malfoy demanded.

Snape came out of the shallows and plopped the levitated big black dog next to Crookshanks on the ground. Snape quickly stepped over the two animals and pointed his wand at them.

“Well, well, well. What have we here? Students out of bound, I see.” Snape drawled out.

“I can’t believe—all this time we were right. You are on Voldemort’s side!” Hermione addressed their professor angrily. “Wait until we tell Dumbledore!”

“You won’t tell anyone anything, foolish little Mudblood.” He sneered. “_Stuplify!_” He pointed it at her. 

Neville watched in horror as Hermione fell to the ground, unconscious. 

“You’ll regret that.” Harry spoke out. 

“Now. Your turn. I wouldn’t do anything stupid. We outnumber you.” 

The last thing Neville heard was, “Draco! Nott! Don’t forget to add their hair!”

_No, that can’t be right. _He thought before he slipped unconscious.

Neville blinked rapidly as he came to. He glanced around rather frantically. It was obvious that he was no longer at the Shrieking Shack. They had traveled far—perhaps hundreds of miles away. They were outside yet he didn’t see any hint of the illuminated lights of Hogsmeade. 

Once his vision cleared, he realized he was in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left. Neville could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside. 

He noticed that Harry was beside him, looking rather unhinged. He started to move when a voice interrupted him.

“Now, now. I wouldn’t move if I were you.” Lucius hissed. “Best not to make it any worse than it already is.”

Neville glanced at Harry and then down at himself and realized that they were both magically bound to two headstones. 

“What do you want, Malfoy? Why did you bring us to this place?” Neville demanded.

“This is where it all begins.” He said ambiguously.

Then, Scabbers scurried out from the distance.

“Scabbers! What are you doing here?” Neville asked, despite himself.

“Funny you should ask.” Snape said as he approached, his wand focusing on the two of them. “Nott, show them the truth.” 

A masked man let out a throaty muffled laugh as he approached. He lifted it up, revealing a thin-faced middle-ages man with dark brown eyes, mousy brown hair and Theodore’s same weedy features. _It must be his father._ He thought.

Nott Sr. pointed the wand at Pettigrew and a flash of blue-white light erupted from his wand. It happened so quickly, it took a moment to realize that a head was shooting upward from the ground; and limbs were sprouting out from different angles. A few moments later, a man stood where Scabbers had been. Much to Neville’s horror; he quickly realized it was Peter Pettigrew.

“What—how—what?” Neville stammered out, incredulous.

“So, we finally meet officially.” Squeaked out Pettigrew. “Hello Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter.”

He was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry and Hermione. His thin, colorless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. He had the shrunken appearance of a plump man who has lost a lot of weight in a short time. His skin looked grubby, almost like Scabbers’s fur, and something of the rat lingered around his pointed nose and his very small, watery eyes. He didn’t look like much but there was this insanity look in his eyes that eluded that he was far from harmless.

“He’s an Animagus.” Neville said in awe.

“As amusing as this little field trip is—-get to the point.” Harry was trying to sound tough but Neville could tell by the shakiness in his voice and the stiffness of his movements that he was as terrified as he was.

“Wish to meet the Dark Lord quicker, do you?” Pettigrew squeaked.

“What?” Harry snapped.

Neville felt a sense of horrible foreboding wash over him.

“Yes, I think they are eager indeed.” Lucius said in a horribly smug tone.

“Time to meet your new master.” Pettigrew’s said. “Go and fetch him, Nott!” He commanded as he himself left them with the jeering faces of Malfoy and Snape.

Nott Sr. pulled down his mask and turned in a flurry of quick motions. Squinting tensely through the darkness, he could see Nott Sr. drawing near again, walking steadily toward them between the graves, holding something in his thin wiry arms. Once close enough, Neville realized that the thing in the person’s arms looked like a baby. _Or is it merely a bundle of robes?_

He and Harry exchanged bewildered looks.

Neville was about to say something when his scar started to burn so badly that he could see blasts of white in front of his eyes. He tried to grab for it but the binds held him tightly. He suddenly knew that he didn’t want to see what was in those robes. He didn’t want that bundle to be opened.

“_Silencio!_” A voice that seemed far from him bellowed. 

He heard noises moving by his feet his feet. When he glanced down, he saw a gigantic snake slither through the grass, circling the headstone where he was tied. 

Wormtail’s fast, wheezy breathing was growing louder again. It sounded as though he was forcing something heavy across the ground. Then, when he came back within Neville’s range of vision, he noticed that he was pushing a stone cauldron large enough for a man to sit into the foot of the grave. It was full of what seemed to be water. Neville could hear it slopping around.

The thing inside the bundle of robes stirred more persistently, as though it was trying to free itself. Now Wormtail was busying himself at the bottom of the cauldron with a wand. Suddenly there were crackling flames beneath it. The large snake slithered away into the darkness.

The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. The surface began not only to bubble, but to send out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of Wormtail tending the fire. 

The movements beneath the robes became more agitated. And Neville heard the high, cold voice again.

“Hurry!”

The whole surface of the water was lit with sparks now. It might have been encrusted with diamonds.

“It is ready, Master.”

“Now...” said the cold voice.

Nott Sr. handed the robed thing over to Wormtail, who held it close to him as though it was an infant needing to be soothed. Then, just as swiftly, Pettigrew dropped the robes, revealing what was inside them.

Neville let out a muted strangled yell that never came to fruition.

It was as though Wormtail had flipped over a stone and revealed something ugly, slimy, and blind—but worse, a hundred times worse. The thing Wormtail had been holding had the shape of a crouched human child, except that Neville had never seen anything less like a child. It was hairless and scaly looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face—no child alive ever had a face like that—flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes.

The thing seemed almost helpless; it raised its thin arms, put them around Wormtail’s neck, and Wormtail lifted it. As he did so, his hood fell back, and Neville saw the look of revulsion on Wormtail’s weak, pale face in the firelight as he carried the creature to the rim of the cauldron. 

For one moment, Neville saw the evil, flat face illuminated in the sparks dancing on the surface of the potion. Wormtail lowered the creature into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface; Neville heard its frail body hit the bottom with a soft thud.

_Let it drown. _Neville thought, his scar burning almost past endurance. _Please let it drown_...

Wormtail was speaking. His voice shook; he seemed frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke into the dusk. _How much time has passed_? Neville couldn’t help but wonder.

“Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!”

The surface of the grave at Neville’s feet cracked. 

Horrified, Neville watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail’s command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.

Wormtail pulled out a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs.

“Flesh—of the servant—w-willingly given—you will—revive—your master.”

He stretched his right hand out in front of him. He gripped the dagger tightly in his left hand and swung it upward.

Neville realized what Wormtail was about to do a second before it happened. He closed his eyes as tightly as he could, but he could not block the scream that pierced the night. It felt like it was jabbed through him as though he had been stabbed with the dagger too. He heard something fall to the ground, Wormtail’s anguished panting, and then a sickening splash, as something was dropped into the cauldron. Neville couldn’t stand to look but the potion had turned a burning red; the light of it shone through his closed eyelids.

Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony. It wasn’t until Neville felt Wormtail’s anguished breath on his face did he realize that he was right in front of him.

“B-blood of the enemy...forcibly taken...you will...resurrect your foe.”

Neville glanced over at Harry. He was staring at him with a horrified expression, as powerless to stop what was happening as he was.

Squinting down, struggling helplessly at the ropes binding him, he saw the shining silver dagger shaking in Wormtail’s remaining hand. He felt its point penetrate the crook of his right arm and blood seeping down the sleeve of his torn robes. He bit down on his lip hard enough that it bled as he sliced into his skin. 

Wormtail, still panting with pain, fumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to Neville’s cut, so that a dribble of blood fell into it.

He staggered back to the cauldron with Neville’s blood. He poured it inside. The liquid within turned, instantly, a blinding white. Wormtail stood in front of Harry next, and slid the knife down his flesh. He could hear his blood plop into the cauldron. He couldn’t bear to look at Harry now.

Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing.

The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else to velvety blackness. Nothing happened. 

_Let it have drowned. Let it have gone wrong._

Then, the sparks that emanated from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, obliterating everything in front of Neville, so that he couldn’t see anything but vapor hanging in the air. _It’s gone wrong. It’s drowned. Please let it be dead_.

Then, through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and emancipated, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.

“Robe me,” said the high, cold voice from behind the steam, and Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over his master’s head.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Neville. His own gaze was fixated on the face that had haunted his nightmares. He was whiter than a skull, with wide with livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snake’s with slits for nostrils.

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	15. Precarious deception.

For a moment, Draco stood in utter shock as Neville and Harry were Side-Along Apparated out of the Shrieking Shack.

“Get a move on!” Nott growled at him.

The sound of his voice jolted him out of his stupor.

They each pulled out two vials from their robes. One had Polyjuice potion in it and the other was a labeled vial with some hair in it. Draco glowered at Nott, hating that he was forced to work with someone who dared to blackmail him.

He frowned when he realized he had the one that said ‘Longbottom’ instead of ‘Potter’.

“I was supposed to have Potter’s.” He complained irritably.

“Shut it and hurry up before the Mudblood, cat, and mutt awaken!” Nott barked back.

Draco added a bit of Neville’s hair into the vile, secretly thankful he thought to wear rather large robes. He hadn’t anticipated to be stuck as Neville Longbottom but he was prepared for it.

He eyed Nott’s own oversized robes. _He looks like a drowning rat._ He smirked despite himself. 

Draco glanced down at his hideous vile, pinched his nose with his free hand and downed the liquid. He gagged, nearly vomiting the horrid liquid. Nott had turned rather green and was wavering in places like he was going to pass out at any given moment. Draco watched him, feeling blatant satisfaction that he had the decency to suffer as much as he was. _It is his turn._

Several days prior, his father had gone through the motions of excusing both he and Theodore Nott from school. The story was that Draco’s mother was rather sick and Draco insisted on bringing along Theodore. After some debate; it was allowed.

The thought of Nott being near him or any of his family was nauseating. He kept flashing to the forced snog and that day he went to Hogsmeade.

_When they arrived at the Malfoy Manor, his father told them to stay put. Draco could barely look at the other lad, let alone speak to him. He could feel his eyes on him but he wouldn’t allow him the satisfaction._

_His father returned swiftly followed by Peter Pettigrew and another bloke dressed in black flowing robes. His mask rested on his head above his face._

_“The time is nearing for the Dark Lord to return.” His father began. “Your part is simple yet essential so it is important that you do not mess it up.”_

_Inspiring as always. He thought bitterly._

_“Perhaps, with this task you will be honored with the Dark Mark.” said an unfamiliar voice._

_Draco tried to push back the desire to vomit at the notion of said “honour”._

_“Yes, father.” Nott said._

_Draco abruptly turned towards Nott. That’s his father? Well, now I know where his gangly appearance came from. He thought.  
_

_“Now. Pay close attention.” his father was saying. “Draco. Pettigrew is going to transform back into Weasley’s rat and you are to dangle him in front of them. Then release him.”_

_Draco tried to comprehend all of it at once. Pettigrew is an animagus pretending to be the Weasel’s pet? He thought, bewildered.  
_

_“I said, do you understand me?” His father said, his patience clearly waning. _

_“Yes, father.” He said after a moment, even though his mind was still reeling at the new information._

_“Good. Then you will meet up with Theodore in the Shrieking Shack.” His father continued._

_“But how? It takes ages to get to the Shrieking Shack by foot.” Draco complained._

_“Silencio!” His father hissed. Nott snickered beside him. “I’m sure you two can figure it out.” _

_Draco silently gulped and nodded his head. He couldn’t bear to look at Nott’s ugly smug face._

_“Now. After everyone is stunned you slip in and drink the potion. Then pretend you are waking up with the rest. You must pretend to be Potter and Longbottom. This is an essential part of the plan. No one can know that they were gone. We do not want anyone to be warned about the Dark Lord’s return.”_

_Draco, still unable to speak, nodded his head. He heard Nott say, “yes sir” beside him. Bloody git. _

_He couldn’t help but ponder why they would risk taking both of them. Is the Dark Lord intending to kill them? Will I be forced to be Longbottom or worse, look at Potter’s face and know that it was Nott? He shuddered at the notion._

_“You are both dismissed.” His father said. _

_Draco was certain he missed something but he couldn’t bring himself to care. A wave of hopelessness washed over him. He dreaded the return of the Dark Lord. He despised the notion of taking the Dark Mark. _

_His father did the counterspell so that he could speak again before he left again._

Draco laid down on the ground after consuming the disgusting potion and closed his mind. He thought of how everything happened in a succession of luck. The tree was stilled when they approached it when they followed the gaggle of people running toward it like a bunch of absolute maniacs. 

Nott and he stared at each other for a moment in silent shock before moving forward. They hadn’t been sure how much longer it would last. It seemed to have taken ages but voices and clogging feet led them into Godric’s Hollow. 

They followed the sound of falling bodies above them. Granger, her ugly cat, and a big black dog laid on the ground. Nott Sr., Snape, and his father had Longbottom and Potter with them. 

His father shouted at them to not forget about the hair before he and Nott used Side-Along Apparition bring along Longbottom and Potter.

“I would advise you not to mess this up.” Snape said before he went to Disapparate after them.

Draco closed his eyes tightly as he tried to remain quite still as he lied on the disgracefully dirty floor. _At least these aren’t my robes._

It didn’t take long for the effects to take hold. He grit his teeth as his insides slithered inside of him and burned like a hoard of snakes poisoning him with his venom. He writhed as he felt his body taking on a new shape but he dared not look. He didn’t want to see himself. It was too degrading for him to bear. Becoming the boy who lived was on the top five worst things to have happened to him that year.

After a final burst of searing pain that burned through him; his body settled again. 

“Nott?” He opened one eye and turned his head towards him. He blinked rapidly in shock. He looked like Potter but he knew he wasn’t. His stomach knotted in discomfort.

“Shut it, _Longbottom_.” He spat at him.

“No...they’re on a first name basis, remember? We went over this.” _For an embarrassing amount of time._

He scuffed. “Blood traitors.”

“Shut it. Remember. I’m Neville. She’s Hermione. Ron. Seamus. The cat is Crookshanks. No bloody clue about the dog. Bumped our heads. We don’t remember past getting here and being stunned. No names. Keep it simple and ambiguous. After an hour we clear out no matter what happens.” Draco said for both of their benefits. It became a mantra in his mind.

“Right.” Nott said between gritted teeth. 

Something occurred to him. “Where are Potter’s glasses?” Draco hissed.

“I forgot to take them in the madness. They were already dragging them off. I’ll just say I lost them.” Nott’s voice sounded a bit shaky for the first time. “Shh the Mudblood is waking.”

Draco wanted to remind him not to call her a Mudblood but she was in fact rousing.

“Harry? Neville? Are you alright? Where are your glasses, Harry?” Granger croaked out. 

Draco opened both eyes. “I think so. What happened?” He tried to sound fearful.

“Yes, fine. I lost them...they’re somewhere.” Nott squinted.

_He must currently have Potter’s eyesight._

She sat up abruptly and turned. “Crookshanks? Oh no!” She rushed to the thing and held him, tears in her eyes.

Draco noticed other movements. The dog was shifting slightly. Then, just as abruptly, started to transform. Draco remained still, his eyes widening in utter shock as he watched. The bones convulsed and shifted and human hair sprouted around the dog face. The nose shrank and his limbs grew. 

Draco’s mouth gaped open when he realized it was Sirius Black.

He glanced at Nott, who had turned quite pale with shock. _Shit! He’s going to give us away! He’s not supposed to be surprised. Shit! I am going to give it away!_

He closed his mouth, trying to look nonchalant, hoping no one had noticed his reaction.

“This is what I was trying to tell you both.” Granger said as she let go of the mangy feline that finally decided to wake up. “You haven’t been seeing the Grim. It’s Sirius. He’s an animagus.”

“Oh.” He said dumbly. _Did Potter and Longbottom really not know? _He wondered incredulously.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Nott demanded in a rather convincing imitation of Potter.

“I wanted to but...easier to keep a close watch on you if you didn’t know. Otherwise you’d find a way to evade me.” Black explained.

_That sounds like something he’d do._ He thought, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, like you’re one to talk, Longb—Neville.” Nott said as he sat up.

“Shove off, Potter.” He retorted automatically.

Granger rolled her eyes at them. “We have much more important things to worry about like why are they here, where Scabbers happened to have run off to and where did they go?”

“I can answer some of that, Hermione.” A voice said from behind them.

Draco turned around. It was Lupin, followed by Weasel and Finnigan. He inwardly gulped. He wasn’t sure how they were going to pull off fooling a gaggle of Potter and Longbottom’s closest friends and family.

“You see, Scabbers, is not actually a rat. He is Peter Pettigrew in disguise.”

Draco pretended to be shocked by this news.

“What?” Hermione exclaimed. “How did I not see this?”

“He was sneaky. He knew he had to get in close to Neville and so he chose to turn into rat form so that he could keep a close eye on you both. You especially, Neville. Sirius tried on several occasions to catch him in dog form while you were asleep but alas, he’s a tricky coward.” Lupin explained.

Draco gaped at him in an attempt to fully comprehend it.

“So, it was _you _who attacked the dormitories?” Hermione demanded as she pointed at Black. Finnigan and Weasel moved away from Lupin, their widened eyes moving between the two lying adults.

_Are any adults capable of telling the truth?_ Draco thought, utterly bewildered by the risks and fear that was caused, not by Pettigrew himself, but actual staff members. _Utterly appalling._

“You knew the whole time and never told anyone?” Hermione screamed.

Everyone had turned to her. She raised herself off the floor and was pointing at Lupin, wild-eyed.

“You— you—”

“Hermione—” Weasel said in a calming tone.

“– you and him!”

“Hermione calm down—” Finnigan added.

“I didn’t tell anyone!” Granger shrieked. “I’ve been covering up for you—”

“Hermione listen to me, please” Lupin shouted. “I can explain—”

Draco could feel himself shaking, not with fear, but with a fresh wave of fury. Not just for himself, but for them. As irritating as they were, they didn’t deserve this level of deception. _Neither do I._ They weren’t the only ones that the supposed Pettigrew attacks frightened. _These are the supposed light side?_

Everyone stared at Nott, then, expecting him to say something. Draco sent him a pointed look, hoping he remembered that the two of them were his guardians.

After a pause, a look of belated fury crossed his features. 

“I trusted you,” Nott shouted at Lupin, his voice wavering, “and all this time—you allowed us to believe that Pettigrew was attacking the school!”

“It’s not so easy—we didn’t want to scare him off…” Lupin said rather disgracefully.

“Didn’t want to scare him off? What about us? What about the students?” Granger said, a shrillness in her tone. “All this time I’ve been covering for you, believing you would never endanger the students even though you’re a werewolf…_lies!_”

There was a ringing silence. Draco stared in stunned silence

Everyone’s eyes were now on Lupin, who looked remarkably calm, though rather pale.

“I can explain,” He took a step forward. “but won’t deny that I am a werewolf.”

Weasel gasped, “Get away from us, werewolf!”

Lupin stopped dead. Then, with an obvious effort, he turned to Hermione and said, “How long have you known?”

“Ages,” Hermione whispered. “Since I did Professor Snape’s essay...”

“He’ll be delighted,” said Lupin coolly. “He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what the symptoms meant. Did you check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the Boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?”

“Both,” Granger said quietly.

Lupin forced a laugh. “You’re the cleverest witch of your age I’ve ever met, Hermione.”

“I’m not,” Hermione whispered. “If I’d been a bit cleverer, I’d have told everyone what you are!”

“But they already know,” said Lupin. “At least, the staff do.”

“Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf,” Weasel gasped. “Is he mad?”

“Some of the staff thought so,” said Lupin. “He had to work very hard to convince certain teachers that I’m trustworthy —”

“And the old buffoon was clearly wrong to trust you.” Draco found himself saying through gritted teeth. 

It had little to do with him betraying this lot and everything to do with him endangering everyone, including himself. He had to bite his tongue to suppress saying that his father would hear of this. _He will, though._

Everyone turned to him with raised brows, except for Nott, who was glaring at him.

“Dumbledore is a great man.” Lupin said. “You of all people should know that, Neville. I’m surprised at you.”

Something about this grated him at his core. “Shut it, _werewolf._” He spat. “Dumbledore doesn’t care about our safety. If he did, he wouldn’t have allowed a three-headed dog inside the castle to guard some stone. He certainly wouldn’t have allowed a bunch of kids seek it or enter the Chamber of Secrets. Surely the adults aren’t so incompetent that they couldn’t have figured any of this out and yet a bunch of kids did!” He shouted, momentarily ignoring their gobsmacked expressions.

“I understand where you’re getting at, Neville.” Lupin said after a few. “I am sorry for our deception. Truly.”

“How do we even know you haven’t been helping Pettigrew this whole time? Did you actually see us run in here? We didn’t see you.” Nott cut in quickly.

Gasps rang through the room.

“Harry...you can’t seriously think they would do that, do you?” Granger asked, though she was throwing Black and Lupin a scrutinizing look.

“How did you find us?” Draco asked, ignoring Nott’s accusations. He hadn’t seen them either.

“The map,” said Lupin. “The Marauder’s Map. I was in my office examining it—”

“You know how to work it?” Finnigan said suspiciously.

“Of course I know how to work it,” said Lupin, waving his hand impatiently. “I helped write it. I’m Moony—that was my friends’ nickname for me at school.”

“You wrote —?” Finnigan gaped at him incredulously.

Draco had no idea what they were on about so he tried his best to keep his expression neutral.

“I had been keeping a watch on the map ever since the execution of Buckbeak, knowing you might sneak out to see Hagrid. And I was right, wasn’t I?”

He had started to pace up and down, looking at them. Little patches of dust rose at his feet. “You might have been wearing your father’s old cloak, Harry—”

“How d’you know about the cloak?” Draco blurted out quickly before Nott could say anything.

“The number of times I saw James disappearing under it...” said Lupin, waving an impatient hand again. “The point is, even if you’re wearing an Invisibility Cloak, you still show up on the Marauder’s Map. I watched you cross the grounds. Then, I saw Mr. Malfoy join you before you all ran toward the Whomping Willow. practically ran into Ron and Seamus on my way out there.” Lupin explained. 

“As soon as they mentioned that you were chasing Pettigrew, I knew I was right.”

“Speaking of that. Why do you keep saying Pettigrew? They were chasing Scabbers. I saw him myself!” Finnigan asked skeptically.

“Pettigrew is Scabbers! Don’t you see?” Black finally spoke up.

It took a few seconds for the absurdity of this statement to sink in where it hadn’t before. Then Weasel voiced what everyone but what he and Nott must have been thinking.

“You’re both mental.” 

“Ridiculous!” said Granger faintly.

Draco wanted to confirm the truth of it but he knew he had to keep his mouth shut. He couldn’t make such a mistake, especially in front of Nott.

Then Hermione spoke, in a trembling, would-be calm sort of voice, as though trying to will Professor Lupin to talk sensibly.

“But Professor Lupin... Scabbers can’t be Pettigrew... it just can’t be true; you know it can’t...” Granger said.

“Why can’t it be true?” Lupin said calmly, as though they were in class, and Hermione had simply spotted a problem in an experiment with Grindylows.

“Because... because people would know if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus. We did Animagi in class with Professor McGonagall. And I looked them up when I did my homework—the Ministry of Magic keeps tabs on witches and wizards who can become animals; there’s a register showing what animal they become, and their markings and things...and I went and looked Professor McGonagall up on the register, and there have been only seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew’s name wasn’t on the list.” 

Draco hated how he inwardly marveled at the effort Granger put into her homework. Lupin thankfully, and maddeningly, interrupted his thoughts when he started to laugh.

“Right again, Hermione!” he said. “But the Ministry never knew that there used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts.”

“If you’re going to tell them the story, get a move on, Remus,” said Black. “We still haven’t found Pettigrew. I’ve waited long enough to get my hands on him!”

“All right...but you’ll need to help me, Sirius,” said Lupin, “I only know how it began...” Lupin broke off. 

There had been a loud creak behind him. The bedroom door opened of its own accord. They all turned and stared at it. Then Lupin strode toward it and looked out into the landing.

“No one there...”

“This place is haunted!” said Weasel.

“It’s not,” said Lupin, still looking at the door with a puzzled expression. “The Shrieking Shack was never haunted. The screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me.”

He pushed his graying hair out of his eyes, thought for a moment then said, “That’s where all of this starts—with my becoming a werewolf. None of this could have happened if I hadn’t been bitter…and if I hadn’t been so foolhardy...”

He looked sober and tired. Weasel started to interrupt, but Granger said, “Shh!” She was watching Lupin very intently.

“I was a small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days, there was no cure. The potion that Professor Snape has been making for me is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe; you see. As long as I take it in the week preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform. I’m able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again.

“Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a fully-fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren’t likely to want their children exposed to me.

“But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn’t come to school...” Lupin sighed and looked directly at Nott and Draco. He felt a pang of guilt in knowing that Longbottom and Potter weren't the ones hearing this. “I told you before that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted because I came to Hogwarts. This house,” Lupin looked miserably around the room, “the tunnel that leads to it—they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous.”

Draco wasn’t entirely sure where this story was going, but he was listening raptly all the same. 

“My transformations in those days were—were terrible. It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumor. Even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don’t dare approach it.

“But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius, Peter Pettigrew...and, of course, your father, Harry—James Potter.

“Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her...I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Hermione, worked out the truth.

“They didn’t desert me at all. Instead, they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi.”

Silence rang out in the room before Nott cleared his throat, ”My father too?” Despite the delay, Draco could tell that he was actually astounded.

“Yes, indeed,” said Lupin. “It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong—one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will.”

“But how did that help you?” said Granger, sounding puzzled.

“They couldn’t keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals,” said Lupin. “A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the castle every month under James’s Invisibility Cloak. They transformed. Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the Willow’s attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them.”

“Hurry up, Remus. We haven’t got all night!” Black interrupted. “I’m getting there, Sirius, I’m getting there...well, highly exciting possibilities were open to us now that we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals; they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did. And that’s how we came to write the Marauder’s Map and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs.”

“What sort of animal —?” Finnigan began, but Granger cut him off. “That was still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you’d given others the slip, and bitten somebody?”

“A thought that still haunts me,” said Lupin heavily. “And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless. We got away with our own cleverness.

“I sometimes felt quite guilty about betraying Dumbledore’s trust, of course...he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others’ safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month’s adventure. And I haven’t changed...”

Lupin’s face had hardened, and there was self-disgust in his voice. “All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Pettigrew was an Animagus. But I didn’t do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I’d betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I’d led others along with me and Dumbledore’s trust has meant everything to me. He let me into Hogwarts as a young lad, and he gave me a job when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am. So, with it...I kept quiet and hoped that Sirius could get to Pettigrew before anyone else found out about any of us. In a way, Snape’s been right about me all along.”

“Snape?” Black asked with a bewildered expression. “What’s Snape got to do with it?”

“Who cares? Snape is a Death Eater! We saw him! Right?” Hermione exclaimed as she glanced at him and Nott. 

Here lies in a problem. _How do we stay in character without betraying the Dark Lord?_

“Right. Yes, he was here, Remus! He was here with Lucius Malfoy and Theodore Nott Sr. I think they intended on taking Neville and Harry. I’m not sure why they didn’t...they stunned me too quickly.” Black luckily interjected before he could think of what to say.

Draco’s heart started to thump dangerously against his chest.

“There is no way he’s a Death Eater, Sirius. If he was Dumbledore would know about it and he wouldn’t be working here.” Lupin reasoned.

“Seemed convincing to me. Especially given what he’s been doing all year because of our past. Go ahead, tell them, while you’re at it.” Black smirked as he made an ushering gesture with his arms.

“Yes, dear.” Lupin said with bemused sarcasm, his eyes glittered with obvious mischief.

“Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons...you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me —”

Black made a derisive noise.

“It served him right,” he sneered. “Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to...hoping he could get us expelled...”

“Severus was very interested in where I went every month.” Lupin explained. 

“We were in the same year, you know, and we— er—didn’t like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think. Perhaps of James’s talent on the Quidditch field. Anyway, Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be—er—amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he’d be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it—if he’d got as far as this house, he’d have met a fully-grown werewolf—but your father, who’d heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life. Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was...”

“So that’s why Snape doesn’t like you,” Draco drawled, engaged by the story told, “because he thought you were in on the joke?”

“That’s right,” sneered a cold voice from the wall behind Lupin.

Severus Snape was pulling off the Invisibility Cloak, his wand was pointed directly at Lupin.

Granger screamed and backed into the gobsmacked Weasel and Finnigan. Black and Lupin jolted. Nott stiffened his posture and stared forward with a stoic expression. Draco tried to remain still despite feeling as though he’d received a huge electric shock.

“I found this just inside the base of the Whomping Willow,” said Snape, throwing the cloak aside, careful to keep this wand pointing directly at Lupin’s chest. “Very useful, Potter, I thank you...”

Snape was slightly breathless, but his face was full of suppressed triumph. “You’re wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here?” he said, his eyes glittering.

“Yes! You were just here with the Death Eaters!” Granger interjected fiercely.

Snape narrowed his eyes at her as expectant gazes were fixated on her. “Since you decided to out me to everyone, yes, I was. I am a double agent for the Order of the Phoenix, a secret I expect you to keep from the rest of the school. As it were; only Professor Dumbledore knew.” Snape said smoothly. 

Draco watched him carefully, momentarily wondering for whom he was a double agent. He turned toward Nott who had a similar scrutinizing expression.

He felt eyes on him and saw that the others were staring at him and Nott expectantly. _Wait, would they object? Why would one be so outwardly accusatory?_

He cleared his throat. “I don’t believe you.” Draco said in a low growl.

He sent Nott a look but he ignored him.

“As unpleasant and oily as Snape is; he’s still a professor and we should take his word for it.” Nott said.

The others gasped in surprise while Draco inwardly groaned as he glared at him. He understood why he did it but it was clearly obscenely out of character for Potter.

“But Harry—” Granger said incredulously.

“No! I’ve had enough of this accusatory bullshit. If we can’t at least trust the head of our house then who do we trust?”

“_Your_ house.” Weasel reminded him with a narrowed gaze.

“If you are all done squabbling; I’d like time move on to more important matters.” Snape stated.

Everyone remained quiet. _Potter has more influence than I thought. _He thought with infuriating awe.

“Before I proceeded to my _duties_, I visited your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did...lucky for me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map so I took it. I’ve been watching your tiny dots closely. One glance told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight.”

“Severus —” Lupin began, but Snape overrode him.

“I’ve told the headmaster time and time again of your deceptive nature. Now he will know the truth of it all and that it has been you blindly helping Sirius break in all along in pursuit of Pettigrew, the rat servant of the Dark Lord and unregistered Animagus. I wonder how long you will rot in Azkaban for failure to provide information about a criminal, breaking into the school dormitories and being an unregistered animagus is.

“Severus, you’re making a mistake,” said Lupin urgently. “You haven’t heard everything—I can explain—we only meant to catch Pettigrew—”

“Two more for Azkaban tonight,” said Snape, his eyes now gleaming fanatically. “I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this. He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin...a tame werewolf—or Fudge. I dare say he has no sympathy for _your lot._”

“You fool,” said Lupin softly. “Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting innocent men inside Azkaban, leaving Harry without his guardians and Neville further vulnerable to attack?”

Bang! Thin, snakelike cords burst from the end of Snape’s wand and twisted themselves around Lupin’s mouth, wrists, and ankles; he overbalanced and fell to the floor, unable to move. With a roar of rage, Black started toward Snape, but Snape pointed his wand straight between Black’s eyes.

“Give me a reason,” he whispered. “Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will.”

Black stopped dead. It would have been impossible to say which face showed more hatred.

Draco stood there, paralyzed, not only at a loss in what to do but he hadn’t an iota of a clue what Longbottom would do in this situation. Nott and him locked eyes; he was in a similar predicament.

He turned toward Weasel, Finnigan and Granger, trying to figure out where they stood. Weasel and Finnigan appeared to be just as baffled as he was. 

Hermione, however, took an uncertain step toward Snape and said, in a very breathless voice, “Professor Snape — it wouldn’t hurt to hear what they’ve got to say, w-would it?”

“Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school,” Snape spat. “You, Longbottom, Finnigan, Potter, and Weasley are out-of-bounds, in the company of a werewolf, and an unregistered animagus. For once in your life, hold your tongue.”

“But if—if they were only—”

“Keep quiet, you stupid girl!”

Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. “Don’t talk about what you don’t understand!”

A few sparks shot out of the end of his wand, which was still pointed at Black’s face. Hermione fell silent.

“Vengeance is sweet,” Snape breathed at Black. “How I hoped to one day best you...”

“The joke’s on you again, Severus,” Black snarled. “While you were sneaking about, we found Pettigrew in rat form. We’ve been keeping him stunned so we can take him straight to Dumbledore. If you allow us to take him to the castle; I will go quietly.”

Draco suppressed the urge to gape at him incredulously. _He’s bluffing. How is he going to pull this off?_ He kept quiet, his mind reeling.

“Up to the castle?” said Snape silkily. “I don’t think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the Dementors once we get out of the Willow.” 

“You—you’ve got to hear me out,” Lupin croaked. “The rat—we have to show Dumbledore that the rat is indeed Pettigrew.”

But there was a mad glint in Snape’s eyes that Draco had never seen before. He seemed beyond reason.

“Come on, all of you,” he said. He clicked his fingers, and the ends of the cords that bound Lupin flew to his hands. “I’ll drag the werewolf. Perhaps you would need to go to Azkaban. Perhaps the Dementors will have a kiss for you.”

Before he realized what he was doing, Draco had crossed the room in three strides and blocked the door.

“Get out of the way, Longbottom, you’re in enough trouble already,” snarled Snape. “If I hadn’t been here to save your skin from the Death Eaters—”

“Yes. Thank you for that but you are wrong to take them and you know it. Taking Po-Harry’s only family because of unorthodox methods of trying to catch a mass murderer is absurd.” Draco found himself saying.

“Don’t ask me to fathom how their minds work.” hissed Snape. “Get out of the way, Longbottom.”

“You’re pathetic.” Draco growled. “Just because they made a fool out of you in school you won’t even listen—”

“Silence! I will not be spoken to like that!” Snape shrieked, looking quite mad.

“He’s lost the plot…” He heard Finnigan whisper behind him.

“You’ve been hanging with Potter too much. He’s rubbing off on you. And he’s just like his father. Arrogant and stupid. Easily trusting of suspicious characters. You’ll end up just like your parents because you’re too stubborn to admit that this werewolf and_ mutt_ put you all at risk. How do you even know they aren’t the ones working with Pettigrew? It’s all become quite convenient hasn’t it? I haven’t seen where they’re holding Pettigrew. Have you? Now move out of the way or I will _make you. _Get out of my way, Longbottom!”

Draco opened his mouth to say something but before he could, Finnigan raised his wand.

“_Expelliarmus!_” He yelled. 

Except it wasn’t just his voice echoing through the walls. He stared in awe as he realized that both Weasel and Granger tried to disarm Snape at the exact same time. Snape was lifted off his feet and slammed into the wall, then slid down to the floor, a trickle

of blood oozing from under his hair. He had been knocked out. 

Snape’s wand soared a high arc and landed on the bed next to Crookshanks.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” said Black in awe.

Draco was just as shocked. A wave of respect and jealousy struck him. _Would my friends do that for me, namely Pansy?_

“We attacked a teacher. We attacked a teacher...” Granger whimpered, interrupting his thoughts.

She was staring at the lifeless Snape with frightened eyes. “Oh, we’re going to be in so much trouble—”

Lupin was struggling against his bonds. Black bent down quickly and untied him. Lupin straightened up, rubbing his arms where the ropes had cut into them.

Thank you.” Lupin said softly to them and then glanced at Black. “Are you OK, love?” He said softly. 

“Of course, I am.” Black responded.

Much to his surprise they shared a small, yet affectionate snog. He felt a jab in his chest but he wasn’t sure where it was coming from.

“You haven’t really got Pettigrew, do you?” Weasel spoke into the growing silence, aggravatingly uncomfortable by the snog between two men. He knew he should be too but he wasn’t. He thought it was irritating that a blood traitor like Weasel would dare judge anyone.

“Unfortunately, not.” Black answered with a sheepish smile. “If he was here Crookshanks would have found him by now.”

“Great. Now what?” Draco grumbled, uneasy that they had nothing to go on.

_Wait...I don’t want them to find Pettigrew, right?_ He told himself that he was just in character but deep down he knew that the seeds of doubt had been planted.

"What do you mean?” Hermione cut in.

“That cat...as you call it...is part Kneazle. They can sense unsavory characters.” Black stated.

_That explains a lot_. He thought to himself.

“We need to get out of here, though. We have to explain everything to Dumbledore before he does.” Black pointed to Snape with distaste. 

Draco found himself nodding as he watched Seamus moving over to Snape and grabbing Potter’s invisibility cloak and the map he had stolen.

He couldn’t help but notice how everyone’s eyes seemed to fall on Nott every so often. _Shit_.

_We probably don’t have much time left either. The hour has to be about up_.

Before he could even begin to formulate a plan, everyone was moving back through the tunnel to head back out. Draco’s mind reeled. He could already feel the bubbling and burning beneath his skin.

At that moment, he was grabbed from behind and the next thing he knew he was in a cemetery with his father’s claws dig deeply into his shoulders.

“Should have known you’d make a mess of things. You nearly revealed your identities in front of Them .” He hissed into his ears.

“Enough. They distracted them from the truth, didn’t they?” A high-pitched, cold voice said from behind him. 

Draco didn’t have time to question who it was. His vision blurred and he suddenly felt uneasy on his feet. He saw a glimpse of Longbottom and Potter staring at him, bewildered before the world went black.

“...weak boy…”

“...take better care...Pureblood…”

“Yes, Master.”

As the world cleared, he saw a tall, snake-like figure speaking to his father.

_The Dark Lord. It worked. It bloody worked! _His mind reeled in a state of panic. 

He wanted to go back to sleep and pretend that it never happened but then he spotted Potter unconscious with Nott standing above him, looking utterly bemused.

His father approached Potter and he now realized was Longbottom lying beside him. 

“We need to do the Memory Modification charm. I hope you recall the spell for you and your son’s sake, Lucius.” The Dark Lord was saying.

“Of course, My Lord.” Draco had never heard him sound so fearful.

“We use the story we discussed. Every detail must be exact.” The Dark Lord said coldly. “They must not know I have risen.”

_Oh, Merlin._

“One…”

_This cannot be true._

“Two…” 

_Is he pleased? Will we be rewarded? Will Nott or Snape tell them I am unstable? Unfaithful? What will become of us? _His mind wouldn’t stop spinning. He was feeling dizzy again.

“Three!”

“_Falsa memoriae_!” They shouted in unison.

A brilliant icy blue light shot out from their wands and lifted Potter and Neville in the air while unconscious. They started to glow brightly. Nott stumbled over himself and fell to the ground. 

Draco heard screaming in his mind but couldn’t make a sound. His body writhed beyond his control. He realized Nott Sr. stood over him, fury in his gaze.

“_Crucio.” _He all but whispered. “My son told me about you and your family’s thirst for power. Tell no one or I’ll make sure the Dark Lord knows you’re a pouf who fancies that blood traitor, Potter.”

Lighting shocks made his body convulse in agony. The pain was white hot and all-consuming. Draco all too willingly succumbed to the darkness that followed.


	16. Light of the Patronus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to have more chapters but as I was writing this chapter I realized that it wraps up quite nicely. I hope you enjoy it! Book four is coming soon!

“Neville? Harry? What happened? Why are you on the floor?” 

Neville was rather sure it was Hermione but her voice seemed far away. His head was spinning and his mouth was too dry.

The last thing he remembered was falling and bumping his head. It thumped painfully in response.

“Neville?” 

It was Seamus this time.

“I hit my head.” He informed them.

He glanced at Harry who was still on the ground. His eyes widened as he crawled over to him. “Harry? Harry!” He called out.

“Stop bloody shouting.” Harry groaned; his eyes were still closed.

“Are you two OK? Look we have to get to the castle before Snape...no telling where he went. Luckily he can’t Apparate to Hogwarts.” Hermione said.

Neville scrunched up his brows. “Why would he go there? We know he’s a Death Eater, now. He is probably far away from here by now.”

Hermione gave him the strangest look.

“No, Neville. He’s a double agent, remember? But he’s going to tell on Sirius for being an unregistered Animagus and breaking into the dormitories and tell on Lupin for knowing about it and not telling anyone.”

It took Neville a moment to digest what she was saying. “What do you mean? When did you find that out?” Beads of sweat formed on his forehead in his elevating panic.

Hermione gaped at him, terrified. “N-nevermind all that, come on!” 

Harry stared at Hermione and then at Neville, clearly as flabbergasted as he was.

Hermione’s eyes widened at the both of them. “Come on, both of you! Before Lupin turns!”

“Turns?” But Hermione didn’t answer. She grabbed onto Neville’s arm and pulled him along.

He glanced at Harry who shakily got to his feet and followed after them. The journey back felt much longer than the one to The Shrieking Shack.

Once they were past the Whomping Willow; they found Seamus, Ron, Lupin and Sirius were waiting for them.

“What took you so long?” Ron asked.

“Well—I”

Thankfully Hermione interrupted him. “Let’s just get going before—”

Not a step forward was made before Lupin started to step backwards away from them. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked beside them.

Everyone but Neville was staring at him like he was mad. Neville was starting to believe he was, himself.

Lupin stopped; his body had gone rigid. Then his limbs began to shake.

“Oh, my—” Hermione gasped. “He didn’t take his potion tonight. He’s not safe!”

“Run.” Sirius whispered. “Run now.”

Neville found himself frozen in place. He didn’t understand what was going on. He turned to Harry and he seemed to be in a similar situation. His eyes were bugged out of his head, his jaw partially hanging in shock.

“Leave it to me! RUN!” Sirius shouted at them.

There was a terrible snarling noise. Lupin’s head was lengthening. So was his body. His shoulders were hunching and hair was sprouting visibly on his face and hands, which were curling into clawed paws. Crookshanks’ hair was standing on end as he backed away.

Neville could only stare in shock as who was once Lupin was now a werewolf rearing and snapping its long jaw.

He turned to the side but Sirius had disappeared. An enormous, black, bear-like dog bounded forward toward the Werewolf.

“What is the Grim doing?” Neville exclaimed in alarm. 

Hermione turned to stare at him, “It’s Sirius, remember? He’s an Animagus.”

“What? This isn’t bloody funny!” Harry shouted.

“I’m not—how hard did you bump your head?” Hermione asked.

Neither Neville nor Harry could answer that question. He stood, transfixed by the dog and werewolf as they became locked together, jaw to jaw, and claws ripping at each other.

There was a howl and a rumbling growl; Neville turned to see the werewolf taking flight. It was galloping into the forest. The dog—who was supposedly Harry’s guardian, was bleeding with gashes across his muzzle and back as it chased after the Werewolf.

“We have to get to Dumbledore! Too much of a chancer to do anything here.” said Seamus.

“Yeah—come—” Harry didn’t finish his sentence before pausing at a yelping, whining dog in pain.

“Sirius!” Hermione called out.

Harry set off in a run and in an instant, he was at his tail. He suspected the others were right behind him. The yelping was coming from the ground near the edge of the lake. They pelted for it, and Neville, running flat out, felt the cold without realizing what it must mean.

The yelping stopped abruptly. As they reached the lakeshore, they saw why. Sirius had turned back into a man. He was crouched on all fours, his hands over his head.

“No,” he moaned. “No, please.”

That’s when Neville saw them. At least a hundred Dementors gliding in a black mass around the lake toward them. He spun around, the familiar, icy cold penetrating his insides, fog started to obscure his vision; more were appearing out of the darkness on every side, encircling them.

“Think of something happy!” Neville found himself belting out to everyone.

Neville turned to Harry who already had his wand up toward the Dementors. 

He thought of Harry and the snog they shared. “_Expecto Patronum_!” Neville boomed out into the darkness.

He blinked furiously in an attempt to clear his vision, shaking his head to rid it of the faint screaming that had already started inside of it—”

_His lips pressed against mine and the shock between us…_

He tried to focus only on this as he shouted, “_Expecto Patronum!_”

He could vaguely hear Harry shouting it beside him. 

The Dementors encircled Sirius like vultures. His heart raced. He felt so faint but he had to try again. 

We can do this.” Neville croaked out, trying to convince himself more than Harry. 

“Yes, we can.” Harry grabbed hold of his hand and Neville could already feel the energy pulsate between them.

“_Expecto Patronum_!” They shouted together.

A brilliant light shone from both of their wands. They joined at the end and conjured two blinding dazzling silver animals. Neville squinted, trying to see what they were. One of them looked like a horse galloping. _A Stag. _The other was a type of tall, lean dog. It looked like a greyhound but not quite.

They charged together silently from their wands toward the swarming Dementors. They encircled the dark shapes on the ground, and the Dementors were falling back, scattering and retreating into the darkness until they were gone.

The Patronus’ turned and cantered back to Neville and Harry. Their shapes became clearer as they got closer.

Neville’s Patronus stood tall and mighty yet there was a softness to its expression. A leader, no doubt, but not one who reigned with violence.

“That’s a Deerhound.” said Harry next to him.

“How do you know?” He asked the other lad.

“I don’t know.” Harry murmured.

“Yours is a Stag.” Neville said in awe.

“Prongs.” Hermione said, causing Neville to jump.

“What?” He and Harry asked in unison.

Hermione turned as pale as the moon; her eyes became owlish. “Your dad, Harry. His Animagus was a Stag.”

"What? My dad was an Animagus? Who told you that?” Harry demanded.

Neville had a strange feeling that Hermione felt they should know that. Perhaps it was true but there was no familiarity to her statement.

He was quickly distracted by the Stag and the Deerhound disappearing back into the mist, together.

“A Stag and a Deerhound.” Harry said beside him in awe. Their hands were still clasped together.

Sirius was stirring nearby and they rushed toward him.

“Are you alright?” Asked Harry.

“I’ll live.” Sirius grunted. 

“We should probably get out of here before Lupin returns or worse yet that gobshite, Snape. No way I believe _he’s _a double-agent.” Seamus said.

Harry and Neville exchanged confused glances but neither said anything.

“You two should head to the hospital wing. I think you have a severe concussion.” Hermione interjected; her face still paled.

Both of them realized they were still holding hands and let go quickly. Neville’s heart was pounding and he had a feeling that it wasn’t entirely because of the danger they had just faced.

“Do you think it was the ministry that sent the Dementors after me or do you suppose they acted on their own accord?” Sirius asked after a few moments.

“I don’t know…” Worry lines creased Harry’s forehead.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t chance it.” Hermione said. “Take Crookshanks and head back to Godric Hollow. Then Apparate anywhere but here.”

“I can’t just leave Remus...or you lot.” He said.

“You have to. We don’t know what’s going on yet.” Harry said with a weariness in his tone.

“No, He's right. If he runs, he looks guilty. Besides, if he comes quietly maybe they’ll go easy on you.” Neville stated.

“Yes, I suppose.” Sirius said with uncertainty.

Neville suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. _Isn’t he supposed to be the adult, here?_

They made the journey back to the castle in silence. Seamus and Ron helped Sirius along while they rest of them followed. Neville’s mind was too numb to think too deeply about what just occurred. He was just glad that for now, it was over.

Madam Pomfrey tended to them quickly, insisting first and foremost to eat some chocolate. Sirius’ injuries weren’t nearly as bad as they could have been. Madam Pomfrey was baffled by the fact that neither he nor Harry showed signs of a concussion. This made their memory loss more of a mystery. While he was pretending to sleep, he heard Pomfrey usher them all out to fetch Dumbledore at once.

Neville himself couldn’t fathom what could have occurred. The memory of bumping his head was crystal clear in his mind. His dream of a graveyard and high-pitched laughter that made his scar burn in agony was vivid in his mind as well. _Perhaps Pettigrew had found his master after all. _He thought before he realized it was only a dream.

Neville didn't bother to open his eyes until he heard the soft tenor of the Headmaster near his bed speaking to Harry.

He spotted Neville through his moon shaped spectacles. “How are you feeling, Neville?” He asked.

“Confused.” Neville said quietly. 

“I am sure. Based on the accounts of Hermione Granger, Seamus Finnigan, and Ron Weasley verses what I have learned so far from Harry Potter; it seems quite normal for you to be confused.

“I suspect a memory modification charm was done on you but it can only be confirmed if I were to look at your memory. Can you grant me this?”

Neville frowned but nodded his head slightly. 

“Thank you. I suspect it will clear things up a bit. The others also have their memories so that we can take a look at all of the evidence. If memories have been altered there is something deeper going on and perhaps, we can spare you a trial.”

Neville’s eyes widened, “A trial?” He exclaimed.

“Yes. Unfortunately, Sirius was the one who broke into both of the dormitories as an illegal Animagus. Even if it was intended for the safety of the students, Fudge believes this does not excuse rule breaking. Curiously, he does not recall sending Dementors after him. Memory loss seems to be going around. Lupin, of course, aided Sirius and knew of his activities so he is being tried for his involvement as an accomplice.”

He struggled to understand it with the holes that seemed to have been poked. Please, sir, can you explain to me what happened?”

Dumbledore gazed at him with a grave expression. “Yes. Of course.”

He explained the events that he could no longer remember.

After Dumbledore finished, he took a few moments to allow it to sink in before speaking.

“Why is Sirius and Lupin being tried? They only did it to catch Pettigrew!” _Did I misunderstand something?_

Dumbledore gave a nod in much needed confirmation. “We know this. But Fudge appears skeptical that Pettigrew ever made it to Hogwarts.”

“What?” Neville exclaimed incredulously. “How!”

“Some people only see what they want to see.” Dumbledore said vaguely. “Especially when it comes to the light, like the one you and Harry brought with your Patronus’. You saved a man from a terrible fate and despite what happens, never forget the hope brought with the light of a Patronus.”

Neville was not entirely sure what Dumbledore meant but he nodded his head regardless.

“Now to the unfortunate business of acquiring your memory…” Dumbledore stated.

“Right. Go ahead.”

Dumbledore tapped his wand to his forehead and he felt a tingling sensation in his head. A white mist escaped from his head and Dumbledore bottled the glowing substance in a tiny tube. The experience was mildly uncomfortable yet happened rather quickly. 

“Is Snape really a double agent for you?” Neville asked.

“Yes. But this is something to keep between us.” He said. “It is imperative.” 

Neville nodded his head slightly.

“Now. I must go and access your memories. Get some rest, Neville.” Dumbledore said before striding back out of the door, leaving Neville to his thoughts.” 

_Is it possible my memories were altered? By whom and why? Does this have to do with Pettigrew supposedly disappearing? What will become of Sirius and Lupin after this? What if we are in trouble?_

Eventually, despite his panic, Neville exhausted himself and slipped into a restless slumber full of bones, blood, and a distant memory of a voice that he knew too well.

When he awoke, his scar was burning. He rubbed at it as he hissed through his teeth. 

“You OK?” Harry asked from a bed over.

“Fine. Just...my scar.” Neville said to him.

Harry frowned. “That’s not good. I’ve been trying to piece it all together with what we were told happened and what we remember happened. None of it adds up. I can’t figure it out.”

“Me either.” Neville admitted. “It is maddening, really.”

“Yeah. I just—what if—”

Harry didn’t have to finish the sentence for Neville to know what he meant. “It’s not like that. You aren’t going mad. This seems more like foul play. But even if you are, then so am I. We can be mental together.” 

Harry’s brows raised and he stared at him with a horrified expression. Neville regretted using the word “mental”. Then Harry let out a snort.

“I really am rubbing off on you, Longbottom.” He snickered.

Neville smirked back at him, watching as Harry glanced around for Madam Pomfrey and then got out of bed and moved to sit on Neville’s bed. He reached for Neville’s hand. Tingles of warmth and comfort overwhelmed him, causing him to feel momentarily at peace.

Their eyes locked and they stared at each other, transfixed. They stayed that way for ages; the world around them seemed to fade away. Eventually, Neville’s eyelids drooped and he fell asleep.

When he awoke again, Harry was gone not only from his side but his bed as well. _He must have been released._

“Ah, finally up, Mr. Longbottom. Well, I am going to do one more checkup before releasing you.” Madam Pomfrey said as she came around. 

“Just one moment, please. I’d like a word with Mr. Longbottom.” Dumbledore’s soft voice cut in.

“Certainly.” Madam Pomfrey promptly gave them some privacy.

“I looked over your memories and it was as I feared. Your memory has been altered significantly. You were given a replacement memory. By whom, we cannot fathom given the contrasting accounts of the others who were present. You had apparently been awake and active the entire time.” Dumbledore frowned. 

Neville got the distinct feeling that he was withholding something from him. “Can we have those memories?”

Dumbledore considered it for a minute. “Perhaps, in the Pensieve but I hesitate to fiddle with your memories any more than they already have.”

“Pensieve? Sir?” Neville asked, bewildered.

“Especially when dealing with other people’s memories I like to use a Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one’s mind and examines them at their leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns, particularly if they are not your own.

“So, the memory I took and poured into a container so that it can be viewed whenever necessary.” Dumbledore explained.

"I’d like to see the memory.” Neville said, still not entirely sure what he meant.

“Exactly what Mr. Potter said.” He chuckled with a twinkle in his eye. “Before the feast both of you come to my office.” 

“Yes, sir.”

Dumbledore strode out the door as swiftly as he entered.

Madam Pomfrey entered a few moments later to do the final checkup. Once she was satisfied, she allowed him to leave. He still felt oddly exhausted so he had every intention of just going back to his dormitory and sleeping more before meeting with Dumbledore. He was far from interested in dinner or the gossip that was no doubt spreading throughout the school. 

Once he got into the Gryffindor common room, he saw Hermione and Seamus sitting on the couch. He supposed they weren’t hungry either. As soon as they saw him, they both approached.

“Alright, Neville?” Seamus greeted in a poor attempt to sound cheerful.

“Oh Neville. They’re going to trial. They are actually putting Lupin and Sirius on trial!” Hermione cut in as she shoved the paper in his face.

**Illegal Animagus and Werewolf staff members sentenced to trial**

_Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, who we’re both staff members at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was arrested yesterday morning to await trial with Wizengamot on August 15,1994. Sirius Black will be facing charges for failing to register as a known Animagi (PmP). The Improper Use of Magic Office requires all Animagus to register within their department. Failure to register are subject to heavy fines or time spent in Azkaban. Remus Lupin, the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, a Werewolf, will be facing charges for aiding and abiding as well as Obstruction of justice._

_According to another professor, Severus Snape, Lupin has known Black was an unregistered Animagus the entire time. He also knew he was the one behind the break-ins during the entire school year. _

_“It’s disturbing to have professors with such little regard for rules.” Snape stated._

_On top of his charge as an Animagus, was responsible for breaking and entering for stories and causing damage to school and student’s property. Throughout the school year it was believed that escape convict, Peter Pettigrew, was breaking into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in a search for Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter. Black claimed that Pettigrew was an unregistered Animagus and was posing as a student’s rat and so he was searching for him undercover and allowing staff and students believe it was Pettigrew. While it would explain how Pettigrew escaped Azkaban; there was no evidence to back up such a claim._

_Headmaster Albus Dumbledore sang a different tune when he commented._

_“While I do not condone Sirius Black being an Animagus illegally; I can say that he has never used it for anything sinister. Even his break ins this past year were done in hopes of catching Peter Pettigrew in rat form. Both he and Lupin only had the children’s well-being in mind. I have no doubts that they were telling the truth in all matters. To punish them for protecting the students is appalling. I plan on testifying in their behalf if it calls for it.” Dumbledore said._

_Dumbledore’s insistence on being loyal to lawbreakers is concerning and one must start to wonder if he was confounded into saying such things or he is truly losing his touch._

_“Laws are made for a reason and regardless of their intent; it must be upheld!” The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge stated._

_Sirius is the legal guardian of Hogwarts student, Harry Potter. He, along with his partner, Lupin, both took part in raising the third-year student. It is uncertain where he might end up if they are both sentenced to time in Azkaban. One can only hope that justice will be served swiftly and accordingly and Potter can be placed in a proper home with positive role models._

Neville’s face turned crimson with fury. “Who is Rita Skeeter and where does she come off writing such bullshit!” He ripped up the paper and threw it in the fire. 

“It’s a bunch of rubbish is what it is!” Seamus exclaimed. “Me mam sent it to me.”

“Gran probably sent it to me but I didn’t get it because I was in the hospital wing.” His heart sank. “I didn’t get to say anything to them. They probably won’t let me in the trial to say goodbye if—” He couldn’t finish the sentence. His stomach was all in knots.

“You’ll be alright.” Seamus said with a light pat on Neville’s shoulder.

“Forget about me. What about Harry? They’re his guardians. What will become of him?”

He was met with silence.

He made his way to Dumbledore’s office. “Lemon drops” he told the statue and headed inside.

Harry was already sitting there. He gave a tight-lipped smile and sat down. 

“Hello, Neville. I suspect you, like Harry, are seeking answers?”

Neville could only nod, numbly. He had no idea what to expect at this point.

Dumbledore rose from his chair and opened a black cabinet, revealing a shallow, stone basin lying there. It had odd carvings around the edge: runes and symbols that Neville didn’t recognize. Judging by Harry’s expression; he didn’t either. A strange, glowing light came from the basin’s contents. Neville couldn’t tell if the substance was liquid or gas. It was a bright whitish silver and moving ceaselessly. The surface of it became ruffled like water beneath wind, and then, like clouds, separated and swirled smoothly. It looked like light made liquid or wind made solid. He wasn’t sure which.

“Now, you will have to go in one at a time. I have chosen Hermione’s memory for you to enter with her approval of course. Neville. Why don’t you go first?”

As Neville stepped toward the basin, the silvery substance began to quickly swirl about. He bent closer, his head right inside the cabinet. The silvery substance had become transparent; it looked like glass. He thought he would see the bottom of the basin but instead he was back at the Shrieking Shack. It was at the point where he recalled bumping his head. Yet there he was. He watched in horror at a completely and utterly unfamiliar memory.

When he came back up, he was speechless. Swear formed at his brows as he took a few steps back. 

“You-your turn.” He told Harry.

Once he came back up; Harry looked as utterly terrified as he felt. They both sat down, speechless.

“Did any of that seem remotely familiar?” Dumbledore asked finally.

They both shook their heads.

“Ah, it is what I feared.” Dumbledore said. “The old memory must have been _obliviated_ and a new extensive one was made to take its place entirely. It is quite advanced magic. It is far beyond the simpler _Obliviate_ charm. This is darker magic, used solely for manipulation.”

Neville sat motionless in his chair, unable to speak.

“Who would do that and why?” Harry asked after a few moments. 

“Ah, those are the right questions. If only I had the answer.” He said. “If there are no more questions; we have a feast to enjoy!”

Neville shook his head and left the office feeling more confused than ever.

He barely felt like celebrating at the End-of-Term feast. He felt like a weight had settled on his chest and nestled itself there. He decided against mentioning the strange experience with the Pensieve. He couldn’t bring himself to join any of the conversations around him, especially since all anyone could talk about was Sirius Black and Remus Lupin’s upcoming trial.

“Bloody mental, what happened.” Ron was saying.

“Yeah. I can’t believe we had a Werewolf teaching us all year and an Illegal Animagus as security.” Dean Thomas replied. “Don’t see what the big deal is, myself.”

“Are you mad? It was Black who broke into the dormitories! And that werewolf is who helped him!” Parvati cut in.

“Well, I did hear they were lovers. It’s all sort of romantic…” Lavender said dreamily.

“Twisted, more like.” Liam chimed in. 

Before he knew what he was doing, Neville pounded on the table, standing abruptly. Everyone stopped talking at the Gryffindor table at once. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He stomped out of the Great Hall, people lowering their voices to whispers as he passed.

He had nowhere in particular in mind; he just had to get away. As the noise became more distant; he relaxed slightly. _It’s not fair. I can’t even remember a good chunk of it and I was apparently there the whole time. _He shook his head as he stared out one of the windows in the corridor.

He let out a noise of surprise when he felt a hand on his shoulder, followed by a jolt of energy roll through him.

“Harry.” He breathed.

“Ah, one might actually accuse you of being quick witted, someday.” Harry said.

Neville turned back to his smirking face and then snickered. He killed it abruptly, unsure how either of them could laugh at a time like this.

“Are you OK, Harry?”

“Not in the slightest.” He said cheerfully, his words slurring slightly.

“Then why do you look so happy?”

“Why do you think?” He started to snicker again.

“Harry…”

“It’s just some weed and of course fire whiskey. You should have some. Honestly I don’t even care what happens to me.”

“That’s not dealing with it—”

“You sound like Hermione, shut it!” Harry pushed a bottle into his arms.

Neville sat down, eyeing the bottle with scrutiny. 

“Screw it.” He murmured and downed a good gulp.

He spat it out in waves at the bitterness of the taste. Harry cracked up beside him.

“Shut up, Harry!”

“Try it a bit slower, this time.” Harry instructed.

Neville sighed and gulped it down slowly this time. It was still more bitter than sweet but he held it down. He took another swig and passed it to Harry.

“Good lad.” He slurred as he took it down like a pro.

“What is going to happen now, Harry?” Neville asked as he took another swig when offered.

“We will go on with our messed-up memories, I guess. Maybe Hermione will figure it out. Smarter than Dumbledore, she is.” Harry slurred.

“I hope so. It’s scary not knowing...feeling like you aren’t…someone invaded our brains!” 

“I know. Like a Stephen King novel.” Harry said.

“Who?” He never heard of him.

“He’s a Muggle author. A bloody good one at that. Writes some crazy shit. I sometimes wonder if he’s a wizard disguised as a Muggle writing stories. A brilliant concept, really.” Harry explained.

“You are wasted…” Neville said with a shake of his head. “What about…the trial? What will happen if…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

Harry appeared nonplussed. “Your Gran sent a letter saying Dumbledore requested that she cares for me at 12 Grimmauld Place with you. It was either that or the Dursley’s. You remember their Muggle son, the one we blew up?” He started to laugh again.

Neville’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t Gran tell me? Not that I mind but...why am I kept in the dark until convenient for them?”

He drank a larger swig this time.

“I haven’t the foggiest but I’m glad I got you.” 

Harry leaned against his shoulder. Neville turned bright pink at the gesture. 

“Glad I have you too, Harry.” He said after a few moments.

Harry held up the fire whiskey. “To each other! Us against the world!” He exclaimed.

Neville giggled loudly; certain it had all gone to his head.

“Cheers!” He shouted in return. 

As Neville opened his mouth and tilted his head back, Harry poured some of the booze in his mouth. He took it down with ease now. 

He took the bottle from Harry and poured some in his mouth before setting it down between them. Neville felt like his vision was all out of focus and he was so dizzy it was like the world was spinning on its axis around him. It was weird and disorienting but he didn’t think he actually cared. He leaned forward; unaware he was close to Harry’s face.

“I feel funny.” He slurred out.

“You’re drunk.” Harry responded with the most ridiculous smile Neville had ever seen.

“I don’t know if I like it but I also think I love it. Better than memory loss.” Neville rambled.

“I think it’s all a mistake…” Harry responded.

“What?” Neville furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Memory loss and Azkaban. Where is Peter Pettigrew? Was he ever here? It’s all wrong. It’s a trick.” 

“You're out of your tree, Harry.” Neville laughed.

“It’s a mistake. It’s a mess.” Harry murmured.

“Yes.” Neville whispered back.

“But…” Harry cut off and leaned forward and sloppily pressed their lips together. 

Even drunk, Neville could feel the currents of energy flow between them. His heart momentarily stopped and then thudded quickly against his chest. 

Neville wrapped his arms around the other lad’s waist as he melted into the snog of the century. Once they were out of energy, they fell asleep side by side in the corridor. 

When Neville awoke it was light out and he was in his bed. He sat up quickly, a mistake, he found, as his stomach heaved in a horrible way he had never experienced. He realized, to his utter horror that he had no memory of how he got there.

He turned and realized there was a bottle there. He picked it up, mystified. His head was pounding as though someone hexed drums to continually play in his brain. Under the bottle was a folded-up note. 

He unfolded it and read:

_Nev,_

_I believe this will take away your headache. Don’t worry, Hermione did the potion making. I snuck in to levitate your plastered ass to bed. Good luck with the lectures from Hermione!”_

_-H.J.P._

Neville had to laugh. He knew it was Harry straight away because he recognized the handwriting. He could vividly imagine the stern look he’d get from Hermione once she got a hold of him. He closed his eyes, smiling as he remembered the snog. The pain seemed duller somehow.

He opened them again and then eyed the potion. _I am glad_ that _Hermione made it because if Harry had; there is no way I’d drink it. He’s almost as rubbish at potions as I am!_

“Bottoms up.” He murmured and then downed it.

He scrunched up his face in disgust. It tasted awful! He instantly quite a bit better, though. _Hermione is brilliant as always. _He thought.

At their final breakfast of the term, as predicted, Hermione was giving him fiercely disapproving looks. He knew he ought to be ashamed of himself but he wasn’t. His gaze kept finding Harry’s and they’d exchange a special smile. _Or maybe it’s in my head._

“Did you hear me, mate? We got our results from our final exams!” Seamus followed his gaze and smirked. “Ahh he’s a goner!” He teased.

Oi shut it, Seamus!” His cheeks were quite red with embarrassment. 

Nonetheless, he opened his results. They all passed every subject. Neville was amazed that he got through Potions. He had a shrewd suspicion that Dumbledore might have stepped in to stop Snape from failing him on purpose. Snape’s behavior toward them the past week was quite alarming. A muscle twitched unpleasantly at the corner of Snape’s thin mouth every time he glanced at Neville, Hermione, Ron, Seamus, or Harry. He remembered from the Pensieve that a few of them stunned Snape. Yet, none of them got in trouble. He suspected that was another thing that was Dumbledore’s doing.

The second parchment was from Gran.

_Neville,_

_Since it is now official; I must let you know that until the trial Harry Potter will be under my care. Let it be known now that I will not tolerate any funny business and that if he dares to lead you astray in any way, I won’t hesitate to send him to his Muggle relatives! I will see you soon._

_-Gran_

Neville’s stomach sank. The trial. He tried not to think about it but he knew, in the back of his mind, that it would come swiftly. He didn't have much faith that the Wizengamot would be lenient on Lupin or Sirius. It was more likely that he would come live with them. He thought of Harry and their secret snog and wondered how Gran would react to something like that. _Shit_. He thought. _We can’t let ourselves be caught no matter what. _He had an idea of what Harry’s Muggle relatives were like after meeting their son.

“Neville? Are you listening? My mum and dad invited you lot and Harry to the Quidditch World Cup this summer! My dad always gets tickets! It is on August 22nd!” Ron exclaimed.

“Oh! Brilliant!” Neville wasn’t into Quidditch but it seemed like a rather cool experience. “I’ll have to ask Gran…” His face fell. _After everything; I’m not sure she will._

“I’m sure it will be fine.” Seamus reassured him.

“As long as you and Harry don’t do anything else exceedingly stupid.” Hermione lectured with a narrowed gaze.

“We won’t. Not with the trial.” Neville said quietly.

“Oh, Neville. I’m sure they won’t be convicted!” Hermione insisted. “But it is a rather good reason to not misbehave!”

Yes. I know, Hermione. I get it.” Neville said, biting back irritation.

“This is going to be a brilliant summer!” Seamus exclaimed cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to all else, as he often was when it came to Quidditch.

“You said it, mate!” Ron replied, equally preoccupied with Quidditch. 

He could have sworn he heard Hermione utter, “Boys.” under her breath as she sent them a steady, stern expression that gave Professor McGonagall a run for her money.

Once on the Hogwarts Express; Harry popped into their compartment and they told him the good news. That seemed to cheer him up quite a bit. Neville remained quiet. All he could think about was the memory loss they still couldn’t figure out, and the trial set on August 15th. He didn’t want to bring down the mood of the others so he refrained from mentioning the meeting with Dumbledore. Hermione, however, kept glancing over at him with a worried expression. She was the one whose memory he has peeked into. He quickly glanced away; a bit embarrassed that he had seen into her head.

Then he felt a jolt of energy as Harry squeezed his hand. Neville turned to him in utter shock for a moment. Then, without a second thought, he leaned in and snogged him. Harry froze in shock and then returned it, ignoring the snickers from the other lads and the “it’s about time” chimed in by Hermione as she darkened the windows so no one could look inside.

For just that moment; everything was just grand.

Neville glanced around the room once they returned to 12 Grimmauld Place. It seemed empty without Sirius’ smirking grin and Lupin’s kind smile. He didn’t realize how used to their presence he was until they were gone.

Neville glanced over at Harry, who looked stricken. He approached him tentatively.

“It’ll be OK, Harry.” He reassures him.

“I am not so sure.” Harry said with a shakiness he’d never heard before.

Gran tried to make him feel welcome despite clearly harboring her own doubts about the situation.

Harry and Neville spent the majority of the holiday in Harry’s room drinking Fire whiskey and snogging.

A few nights before the trial; Neville plopped into his bed; his heart was still fluttering. _I think I’m in love. _He dreamily thought as he fell asleep.

_“This Muggle was once accused of killing those who once lived here.” said a shrill, high pitched voice that seemed to somehow come from Neville’s own vocal cords._

_He opened his eyes and saw in front of him an elderly man hung upside down and floating. He was short, and stout. He easily looked to be in his seventies. The old man’s eyes appeared to be pried open and his mouth was ajar yet he appeared to be frozen in place. He’s paralyzed. Neville stared at him, horrified._

_He found himself saying in the same cold voice that was not his own, “The Riddles were found one day, dead on the floor. They blamed Frank Bryce, their gardener. He lived in a run-down cottage on the Riddle’s property. Unfriendly and damaged by the petty Muggle war he fought in.” The laugh echoed in a way that sent chills down Neville’s unfamiliar spine._

_“Did he kill them, Master?” A squeaky voice asked._

_He was rather short. His thin, colourless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald spot on his head. He had the shrunken appearance of a man who has lost a lot of weight in a short time. He had a pointed nose and small, beady eyes. Neville realized almost at once that it was Wormtail, who had escaped Azkaban last summer, and supposedly hid in rat form for the entire school year. _

_Master. He called the other Master. Neville’s heart was racing but he couldn’t seem to feel it properly. The joy. There was such glee but it wasn’t his. It couldn’t be._

_“Of course not. After all, their bodies were perfectly preserved and healthy except for the fact that they were dead. Frank was released but all the other silly Muggles still believe that he does it. Filthy Muggle children throw rocks at your house still, don’t they?”_

_He was met with silence._

_“Frank repeated again and again that he was innocent and that the only person he had seen near the house was a teenage boy, a stranger, dark-haired and pale. But no one else in the village ever saw such a person. Even now, even though he was acquitted of all charges; people see him as a murderer. Even if the Riddle family were disliked. Snobs, they had said. Unworthy of sympathy, it would seem._

_“The old Muggle keeps watch over the sad, dilapidated house ever since.”_

_The high-pitched laughter returned. It turned Neville’s blood cold but he couldn’t seem to feel it anything but the high-pitched voice’s contempt for the Muggle and the satisfaction of holding him in his clutches. The pleasure was empty and callus like the voice._

_“Where is Nagini?” He said after a few moments._

_“I—I don’t know, My Lord.” Squeaked the second voice._

_“Find her. We will need her soon to finish what we have begun. Then we reside here until the Quidditch World Cup ends.”_

_“The Quidditch World Cup, My Lord?” said Wormtail. “Forgive me,—but I do not understand—-why do we stay here until the World Cup ends?”_

_“Because, fool, wizards will be pouring into the country from all over the world and every meddler from the Ministry of Magic will be on duty, on the watch for signs of unusual activity, checking and double-checking identities. They will be obsessed with security. It has already begun even though the match isn’t until next week. We must not call attention to ourselves so we wait.”_

_“Your Lordship is still determined, then?” Wormtail said quietly._

_“Certainly, I am determined, Wormtail.” There was a note of menace in the cold voice now._

_A slight pause followed—and then Wormtail spoke, the words tumbling from him in a rush, as though he was forcing himself to say this before he lost his nerve._

_“So much effort to just to kill Neville Longbottom...you can do so much more. Who cares if he lives for now?” _

_Another pause protracted, and then—_

_“It is necessary. Do you not remember?” The cold voice said. “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies....” He seemed to have recited it from memory. “We mustn’t take any chances!”_

_Neville could feel the fury building, threatening to boil like a pot of water on a hot stove for too long._

_“Yes, My Lord.”_

_“Now, we also need Harry Potter. Even if he wasn’t the one who defeated me thirteen years ago, he still has helped Neville prevent me from getting the Stone. I believe my plan will be effective. All I need is a little courage from you, Wormtail. Unless you wish for me to use Malfoy or Nott, instead? Draco perhaps?” He laughed coldly. “Perhaps they are loyal, not you.”_

_“N-no, My Lord. I am faithful. I was the one who found you and brought you Bertha Jorkins.” There was a sulky edge to Pettigrew’s voice now._

_“This is true.” He agreed in a bemused tone. A stroke of brilliance I would not find possible from you, Wormtail. Though, truth be told, you were not aware how useful she was, were you?”_

_“I—I thought she might be useful…”_

_“Liar!” The cruel amusement was more pronounced than ever. “However, I won’t deny that she was useful. If it weren’t for her my plan wouldn’t have succeeded and I would not have risen again.”_

_“You won’t kill me now, will you? I am your most faithful servant, My Lord.” Wormtail shakily replied._

_“Murder you? Why would I? Your loyalty is out of cowardice but you have your uses. I had to kill the woman because she was befuddled when I was done with her. It was likely that she would have absently told the ministry that she had tea with The Dark Lord. In order to succeed; My presence must remain unknown.” He paused, contemplative a moment before continuing. “Did Lucius Malfoy check in with you?”_

_“Y-yes, My Lord, and I am forever grateful for your mercy. I am loyal, not out of fear, but my belief in you…”_

_“Stop your blathering and get on with it!” He replied impatiently._

_Pettigrew winced as he wrung his hands together fearfully. “Lucius said that everything went according to plan and no one suspected anything.”_

_“Good.” _

_There was a hiss nearby and Neville saw a large, green snake, roughly twelve feet long and as thick as a man's thigh. _

_“Ah, there you are, Nagini. Now, after I do what is necessary; you must consume the corpse.” The cold voice said to the snake. _

_The way the man’s eyes bulged suggested that he was no longer speaking in English. Neville quickly deduced that he was speaking in Parseltongue._

_A ring was held in front of Frank’s face. His long, pale fingers curled around it slightly. “I suppose you stole this from my family. Or was it mistakenly leave it to you? Nonetheless, it is a disgrace that you ever had it, you filthy Muggle.” _

_The anger Neville felt burned him to his core. Something inside of him wanted the man dead as much as the eyes he gazed out of. Voldemort’s eyes. He dared to believe it fully now for he could feel the rot of his soul blackening by the moment._

_“Now, Muggle. You will face me like a man before you die.” _

_With a flick of a wand, the man stood in front of him, his face sheet white in utter terror. _

_“I, you will find, am far greater than any man and you will die knowing that your death serves a purpose that surpasses anything a worthless Muggle such as yourself could ever amount to.”_

_Frank opened his mouth to scream then but found that his voice was muted. He tried to move once again but he couldn’t. He was frozen in place by something that, judging by his expression, was well beyond his comprehension. _

_Voldemort’s arm rose, his wand in hand._

_“Avada Kedavra!” Sprang from his lips before Neville could try to stop it._

_There was a flash of green light, a rushing sound, and Frank Bruce crumpled. He was dead before he hit the floor._

A far distance away; Neville Longbottom awoke screaming in agony. His scar burned like fire was being pressed directly onto his forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did change the bit about the ring. At least the time line of when the Horcrox was made. It was essential to my own plot-line.
> 
> Don't worry, Drarry fans, there is more to come. (And many twists and turns!)
> 
> Please tell me what you think!


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